Genuine Star-Crossed Lovers
by LawrenceDaddarioWatsonStewart
Summary: "I think about that all the time. How I tossed you that bread. I should have gone to you. I should have just gone out - in the rain -" What if he HAD? From the author behind Child of the Games & Sole Victor, comes a new epic on the classic Hunger Games story! Please REVIEW! On every single chapter. Multiple times. I really want to hear your honest thoughts. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: More Than Giving Bread

**Chapter 1: More Than Giving Bread**

It is raining, but I don't feel it. Just like the tears that are raining down my cheeks. Except I don't feel those, either.

I am too numb inside. Numb as I stumble through the Merchant section of District 12, still carrying the baby clothes no one has been willing to buy. Numb from the cold of a merciless winter. Numb because I haven't had anything to eat in days, nor has my mother or sister.

There's a sudden clatter and I jump at the sudden, fleeting pain. Of course I wouldn't be looking where I was going. Walking right into some trash cans. My brain screams at the effort it takes to even do basic reasoning; the synapses are slow to fire on account of getting no nutrition in who knows how long. Trash can….. garbage….. leftovers…..

FOOD!

I know not where my sudden energy comes from, but I am suddenly ripping off the lid and digging desperately through the trashcan's contents. Please God, let there be something…..

I get something, all right. Except it doesn't come from the trashcan. It instead comes from nowhere, in the form of a blow to the head.

WHAM! Another clatter as I go down into the cans, sprawling in a heap in the soft dirt. I shake my head from the blow, then scramble around like a crab to find the source. A flash of lightning illuminates the terrifying sight of the Baker's wife, and I know it must be through her garbage I was pilfering.

"Move on, girl! Do you want me to call the Peacekeepers on you? I'm sick of Seam brats pawing through my trash!"

I have no words, no defense, so I struggle to my feet and stumble away, hoping she does not come after me. I only manage a few more yards before I collapse against a tree in exhaustion. Blinking the rain droplets out of my eyes, I can see the lights in the windows of the house across the way. It looks so warm, so inviting….

The warmth seems to be in the very air itself, driving back the cool chill of the rainwater. I breathe deep through my nostrils. The smell of freshly baked bread…. cheese buns…..

Another crash jolts me out of my hallucinations and I cock my head off the tree trunk. Through the downpour, I can see a blond-haired boy stumble out onto the bakery's concrete stoop, the Baker's wife close behind him. Her mouth is open and forming words I cannot hear. Am I in shock? Am I really now that far gone? No, a sentence or two manages to cut through the haze:

"FEED IT TO THE PIG, YOU STUPID CREATURE! WHY NOT? NO ONE DECENT WILL BUY BURNED BREAD!"

She stomps off the gray loading dock and into the house. The boy turns toward what must be the pigpen off to his right.

Then his eyes meet mine.

I peer closer, entranced for some inexplicable reason. I know the baker's youngest son, though not well at all. Only his name. Peeta. He's in my year in school. Yet knowing comes from learning, and as I drink in his presence from yards away, I come to know other things about this young man as well. The way his blond hair glistens when it catches the light from inside. In the sun, it must be blinding and beautiful. How even the grayest of days cannot dampen the brilliant blue of his eyes. The way his apron hugs his well-toned muscles. Young. Strong. Healthy. And attractive. The last thought comes to me unbidden, and if I wasn't so exhausted, I would bat it away in a heartbeat.

I start out of my thoughts, for those blue eyes that I was losing myself into from yards away are now suddenly only feet from me. Sudden warmth heats my arms, as I clumsily find a grip on the loaves Peeta is earnestly pushing into my hands.

"Take them!"

I blink almost stupidly. "What?"

"Take them and go!" Peeta insists. "Now, before she comes back!"

My brain begins to operate at the strongest it has been in weeks, as I realize what is going on. _He's giving me the bread…._ I shake my head vigorously.

"I can't. I can't take these!"

"Yes, you can! My mom's right: who would buy burned bread? It's of more use to you!"

"Peeta, you're not going to risk your life for me. I'm not going to let you!" My voice borders on angry in its insistence, but Peeta stays my hand when I try to push the bread back to him.

"You would do it for me…. wouldn't you?" His blue eyes soften, questioning, unsure.

I stare at him. What a ridiculous question! Would I do it for him? I can't! I'm the one who's starving, not him! But then the possible, however remote, invades the reality. I suddenly imagine our roles reversed: Peeta leaning against this tree half-dead and me living in the nice warm house while not wanting for anything. Would I really do it for him?

Yes. Of course I would. I've spent years trying to feed not only my family, but half the district as well. Day after day slipping into the woods beyond Twelve, risking Peacekeeper beatings or worse, just to feed my family. Just to trade extra game with the frequenters of the Hob, game that I always earn a few coins for. Who's to say I wouldn't give some to Peeta, were he in their shoes? Or my own, for that matter.

And yet, here he is, feeding me. When it has always been my job to feed everyone else. The notion that I am someone in need is so foreign to me, I can only ask in a whisper, "Why are you doing this?"

Peeta's beautiful blue eyes bore into mine with an intensity that is both enthralling and disturbing all at once. Suddenly, I feel the warmth of his hands flood my cheeks.

And then his lips touch mine.

I jump at his unexpected kiss, a choked squeak dying in my throat. His mouth slides along, draws back, recaptures my own in a rather clumsy fashion. It's small comfort. I'm as inexperienced as him; this is my first kiss!

My strong self would push him away, probably even punch him, for such an advance. Yet I do not pull free. I can taste the rainwater on his lips. And something else…..

Cheese buns…..

"Hmmmmmm….." The rumbling moan comes from deep within me, and I shock even myself as my fingers suddenly burrow themselves into Peeta's blond curls and hold fast. I have to, as I'm certain I would tumble end over end into a sweet abyss if I did not keep myself in his embrace. My eyes flutter shut and with great courage, I kiss him back. When his lips suddenly part for mine, I slip just a little of my pink tongue in between the split. I hear Peeta moan, and I smile against his lips. It gives me strange pleasure to know I at least have this power over him, where none seems to reside anywhere else. I dare to go further, twisting my lips deeper into his own and stabbing my tongue inward so that I can feel it touch his.

It is though I have given Peeta an electric shock. I am suddenly being pushed against the tree trunk, Peeta's hands touching my body everywhere it needs warmth. I can feel his fingers dance along my hips as he raises me off the ground just enough to push down on my pants. When they don't move, I practically rip off the button and help him shove them down past my thighs.

I hold Peeta close, the blood pounding in my ears so I can barely register the rustling of fabric as he undoubtedly drops his own leggings. I am vaguely aware of what is going to happen next; we've been learning about it in school. And though the thought of lying with any man would ordinarily be repulsive to my mind, it is instead now filled with animalistic lust and the demand to have wild sex with Peeta Mellark.

Peeta's lips spring from mine at last, and I gasp for air I forgot I needed. Only I choke on that same air as I sense the freezing wind tickle the folds of my womanhood, feel as something unfamiliar pushes into the spot that only my fingers have known.

"Ahhhhhhh…..Mmmmmmmm…" Another breath is cut off as Peeta's lips crash into my open mouth. My hands frame his face, the nape of his neck, keeping us one as I slide off the trunk, sinking back into the coolness of the mud. The baker's son now lies on top of me, and I whimper when he breaks our kiss once more and instead buries his lips into my neck. I arch into him, never wanting the feel of his lips on my skin to end. He must be magic!

"Uhhhhhh….. Uhhhhh… Uhhhhhhh! Uhhhhhh!" My groans become louder and shameless as Peeta begins to slip in and out of me, slowly at first and then with increasing regularity. If it weren't for the booming thunder and flashes of lightning, I am sure someone would hear!

"Rrrrrrrrrrr! Arhhhhhhh!" Peeta growls in perfect harmony with my wails of pleasure. I can feel his warmth once again do wonders for me, seeping into my walls, my cervix, building and building until my whole core is alight with heat.

"Don't… don't stop! Please…." My voice comes out in a raspy croak.

Peeta takes in a sharp breath and pounds into me faster. The cool night air now brushes my legs as he hoists them over his shoulders. His lips bear down on mine, and I welcome them. His kiss may be the only thing that keeps me tethered to this world -

"Huhhhh! Uhhhhh! Ohhhhh…." My breathing becomes shallow, ragged. At last, with a breathy sigh, I release whatever I can no longer hold. The pulsing bursts of pleasure overtake me, my juices lapping around Peeta's and my joined organs, down my legs and mixing into the mud beneath me.

I chill when Peeta's member leaves me. He presses his lips to mine one last time, so passionately that it nearly pushes me deeper into the gooey earth. The burnt loaves of bread flop onto my chest, resting there. Through blurred vision, I watch Peeta pull up his pants and stumble away into the curtain of rain, disappearing like a ghost.

And there I lie, half-naked and spread-eagled on my back in the mud, with nothing but soggy burnt bread and shards of confusing thoughts for company.


	2. Chapter 2: Meek Shall Inherit the Earth

**Chapter 2: Meek Shall Inherit the Earth**

I wince when I feel the dull ache between my legs as I duck under the District 12 fence. The soreness has improved from the stabbing pain that once could leave me straining to so much as pick up a pencil from the floor.

It has been three weeks since the baker's youngest son seduced me that night in the rain. Besides giving me the first sexual experience of my life, he gave me my very life itself. The burnt loaves of bread saved my family and I, no question. I will never forget the hopeful light in Prim's eyes when I walked in the door. Mother heated the wet loaves as best she could without burning them more and we had what amounted to a feast, at least by Seam standards.

What is more, the bread bought us just enough time for me to sign up for tesserae for another year. The monthly rations of oil and grain eases up my hunting demands some. Not a lot, but some.

I now enter the Hob with my wares. At high noon like today, the black market is at its busiest. Good. More chances that I will make a trade. I make a beeline for Greasy Sae's stall, and manage to haggle five coins from her in exchange for some fresh squirrel. I am just gathering my game bag when a familiar crop of red hair approaches the table.

"Well, if it isn't the lovely Ms. Everdeen!"

Despite the white-plated uniform that clashes with the new arrival's hair, I have to smile. Darius is friendly, lenient - something that you surely cannot say about other Peacekeepers. _Any_ other Peacekeeper.

"Hello, Darius."

"And what wonders might you have brought us all today?" He pokes through the bag before I can stop him, though I am not worried. But then he frowns. "Katniss…. did you get this from beyond the fence?"

I nod, confused as to why he is so concerned. It is a well-known secret within the Seam that I poach in the woods beyond the district. Even Darius knows. He has never told any of his superiors about my law-breaking, something I have to respect him for.

Darius sighs. "It's just that someone might see the amount you brought and suspect something. And if I don't say anything…."

Oh no. I understand what he means. Darius can be lenient, but not _that_ lenient. Now and again he has to demonstrate to Cray and his other commanders that he can be firm, just to show that he has done his duty. Even if he does not like it.

"Please don't tell, Darius," I whisper. "There are leftovers in there for Mother and Prim. They can't feed themselves if I am thrown in the stocks."

Darius considers this, his expression unreadable. Then he cracks a small smile. "You know," he whispers conspiratorially to me, "If I just slip some of this into our stores at the Justice Building, Cray probably won't notice."

My eyes fill with tears. I owe him. Big time. It is one of the things I hate and yet abide by rigidly, the concept of owing someone.

"Except I haven't any money," Darius confesses.

I nod. I have a solution. "That won't be necessary. Follow me. And keep that bag out of sight!"

I can sense Darius's confusion as I lead him out of the Hob and down the path towards the Slag Heap. Once we are safely amidst the heaps of trash, I lie flat on my back and strip from the waist down. Darius drops the bag and stares.

"Katniss, are you sure?"

I nod. He's not much older than me - late teens, 20 at most.

Darius's only response is to strip himself of his pants and undergarments. Moments later, I can feel his body hovering over me. Then I register the sharp pinch as his member pushes into my vagina.

I breathe deeply, through my mouth. The huffs of air then transfer out through my nose as I kiss Darius. There is no passion, though, just…. necessity. Whatever can be done to make ours a fair trade.

Darius works up a rhythm, sliding in and out of me faster and faster. I wobble with his motions on the ground, my back sliding against the hard gravel. I keep on kissing Darius unemotionally, since if I moaned or even made a noise, I fear we might be heard.

"Mmmmmm….. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh…. Uhhhhhhhhhh…" In between kisses, Darius lets inhuman noises forth. I can tell he is building up to his limit, getting really close.

"Rrrrrrrrrr!" He finally empties himself inside of me. Just then, a sharp sound comes from feet away, just outside the Slag Heap. Darius looks up.

"Shit!" He pulls out of me rapidly and throws on his pants. Leaving just enough in my game bag for Mother and Prim, he gathers up the rest and leaves, without even saying goodbye.

I lie there, as half naked as I was three weeks before. This time, however, I feel nothing.

Just like all the other times since Peeta.

First there was Billy Raidy. Then Connor Mardiney. Then Walter Tarry. Since the last vestiges of harsh winter have left me with less game than normal (even by my standards) and thus less Hob income, I have been sleeping around for extra money. Seam boys from school - fucking a Merchant would carry its own risks, and a lot of them; class status is but only one concern. My clients pay as well as they can, an extra coin or two that can mean all the difference in the world. And whispers of bedding me will never go beyond stories amongst themselves. Another fair trade.

And yet, there is another reason I have voluntarily subjected myself to the world's oldest profession: the desire to try and replicate the feeling of being with the one Merchant I _have_ slept with.

In this, however, I have spectacularly failed.

* * *

Spring finally breaks a week or so after my rendezvous with Darius. I leave my last class and retrieve Prim from her classroom in Lower School. We step out onto the courtyard at the front of the school, joining the throng of kids meeting up with their parents. Most make the journey to and from school on foot, with only the rare car signifying the wealthiest of Merchants coming to pick up their child.

It's not like my Mother will be there amongst the adults, though.

Prim and I pause under our favorite tree and I go through the ritual of making sure she has everything she needs for her homework. She's forgotten assignments before, and the one time I slipped into school in the middle of the night to retrieve her pencil case, I was nearly caught by the Peacekeepers. But she seems to have everything this time.

As I zip up her backpack, I notice a glint of yellow on the ground. A dropped coin, maybe? I peer closer. No…. it's a dandelion. The first dandelion of the new spring. And as I look up, my eyes behold another beautiful flash of gold.

 _His_ hair. It's _him_.

The tell-tale crop of blonde is standing just a few yards away, chatting with some friends. All at once, I feel my heart begin to pound so loudly, I am sure Prim might hear. This is the first time I've seen Peeta Mellark since the night he took my virginity and saved me from near-certain starvation.

"You're staring." Prim interrupts my thoughts, and I chance a look down at her. She has clearly followed my gaze and a smile is tugging on the corner of her lips. Does she suspect? Probably - she is quite brilliant for an eleven year old. "Why are you staring?"

I shake my head. "Stay here," I tell her, and march over to where Peeta is standing.

"Hey."

It is the lamest introduction ever, but it is all I can get out before this…. whatever-I-am-feeling clogs up my throat. He pauses in his conversation, turns and his face breaks into a surprised smile. "Hey!"

"Can…. can I talk to you for a minute?"

Peeta nods eagerly, and turns briefly over his shoulder. "Sorry, Greg, Collin, gotta takes this."

"That's all right. See ya, Mellark!"

"Later, Mellark."

As soon as they are gone, Peeta leans in close and whispers conspiratorially. "How was the bread?" His smile and the way he asks are both charming, as if he is a waiter inquiring about a restaurant meal. Both, however, mask a clear earnestness.

"It was wonderful, thank you. I just….. thank you."

He nods in acceptance, his expression now serious. "Was it enough?"

I smile softly. "It saved our lives."

He seems quite taken aback by my sincerity, and I use this as my opportunity to go.

"Katniss, wait!"

I turn, seeing his outstretched hand. "Friends?"

I gaze into his blue eyes, so eager and gentle. With any other Merchant, I would refuse out of guardedness, but this boy….. Who's to say a Seam girl and a Merchant can't be…?

I smile shyly. "Friends." And we firmly shake.


	3. Chapter 3: You're You

**Chapter 3: You're You**

Weeks pass into months. And the months follow just as quickly. With them comes a new routine that before long becomes as normal as breathing.

Every morning, Peeta arrives at my house to escort Prim and I to school. Sometimes his greeting is just a wave, but this soon evolves into hugs for each of us. Occasionally, it will constitute a confectionary surprise from the bakery: a cupcake for Prim, or a loaf of bread for me. Once we arrive at school, Peeta and I drop Prim off at her classroom before parting ways with each other at my homeroom. We have later classes with each other, anyhow. At the end of the day, the whole process repeats itself almost perfectly in reverse.

So it is one afternoon, Peeta and I walking side-by-side as Prim skips happily in front of us. I cannot help but think of the adorable sight. It is as if I am a mother, watching her child frolic and play just beyond, right beside my -

I stop and blush, chilled and yet warmed by the word I just conjured: _husband_. I chance a glance at Peeta. No, it could not be. We're just friends. And even if we were more than friends, a relationship would never work. Much less marriage and a family. Not with our backgrounds. Sure, my mother gave up her Merchant life to marry my father - a poor coal miner from the Seam. But things have changed since the days of my parents….. right?

Peeta catches me staring. He smirks. "What?" But before I can deny anything, he peers closer, his beautiful smile sagging into a frown. "Wait a minute…. what is that?"

I shrug, coming to a halt. "What is what?"

"That." And his fingers brush along the indentation in my skin so suddenly, I wince. He's noticed what is on my neck. "Katniss, is that….. a love bite?"

Staring into those blue eyes that sometimes seem to probe my very soul, I know I cannot lie to him. So I quietly tell him how I've been having to sleep with other guys at school for extra money.

"Peeta, please understand. I don't have any other options left. And at least I can avoid going to Cray." I am willing to do a lot of things in the name of those I love, but sleeping with such a Capitol sleazebag like our Head Peacekeeper is one thing I will not stoop to.

Peeta eyes me for a moment, before sighing and nodding. My secret is safe with him. I hug him gratefully, but one thought gnaws at my mind.

Have I broken his heart by revealing I've slept with men other than him?

* * *

The pouring rain reminds me eerily of another night like this, filled with donated bread, traded kisses, and borrowed time. I push my memories of that particular evening down as I approach the back side of the Mellark Bakery. There's the tree that I've now taken to climbing, to leave squirrels and other game on his windowsill. It helps in that I can avoid his witch of a mother.

But squirrels are not what I carry tonight. Only the tears that fall with the rain, as well as a pounding headache from too much alcohol.

I somehow manage to scale the tree to Peeta's bedroom window, and rap lightly on the glassy pane. A moment later, I hear the latch being lifted, followed by the window itself, and the moonlight just reveals Peeta's worried face as I clamber inside. I stumble towards his bed.

"What's wrong?" Peeta's concerned voice asks.

"Bryce is…. done with me," I slur. I have been getting together with him for over a month now - longer than I am normally with most other guys. But, he seemed to like the sex and, hey, it meant a somewhat steady stream of income.

"You've been sleeping with Bryce Hardaway?" Peeta stares. "Katniss, even _I_ know you have _way_ higher standards than _that_!"

I giggle at his dig on Bryce - a little too high-pitched and a little too much. I look back to Peeta and falter when I see him eyeing me sternly. "You're drunk," he guesses correctly.

I try to wave his accusation off, even if it is true. "How else can I deal with no longer knowing when my next meal will be?"

"So what am I now, the mail carrier? I've brought you bread every day!" Peeta reminds me, trying and somewhat failing to not sound offended.

"It's not enough, Peeta," raising my eyes to his as I shake my head. "You've been wonderful and everything, but it's not enough. 'Man does not live by bread alone,' as they say." It's true: though Peeta has risked _more_ than enough, sneaking bread to us without his mother noticing, what he manages to scrounge away really only gets us through a snack at lunch, maybe an appetizer at dinner if anything remains.

"It's my fault; I should be more ambitious in what I can get to you…."

"No!" I cry, sitting up. I cannot have Peeta risk being caught and beaten. I've seen firsthand the blows his mother can leave on his body; she must be as merciless as the Peacekeepers. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine." I deflate, head in my hands out of despondency but also to nurse my raging hangover. "I'm a failure."

I feel his hands dig into my knees and know he is on my level. I should have predicted that he doesn't stand my making comments like that.

"You're _incredible_ ," Peeta hisses, his voice just a whisper. "You're funny, and nice, and beautiful - none of which makes you anything close to a failure!"

I'm too drunk to accept his compliment, so I just chuckle madly and swat at the air, flopping back onto his bed. "Who do you think I am, Mellark?"

"Katniss Everdeen," he answers with disarming honesty.

I sigh, not wanting to dwell on my life's nonfullfillments. "I guess I'll just have to sell the house and buy as much food as I can from that. I bet the Hawthornes would take us in…."

"No." Peeta's voice is so sharp, I have no choice but to raise myself up to look at him. His eyes are pleading. "Don't sell that house. Promise me you won't sell that house." He suddenly takes my hand, pulling me to my feet.

"I'll get you the money, Katniss. Whatever it is, I'll get you the money. No more sleeping around, no selling the house. I'll get you the money."

I gape at him, my jaw hanging slack. Pilfering away bread is one thing, but _money_? The generosity of this boy never ceases to amaze me. This does it. This is the final straw. I think my heart will burst with emotion if I don't do something about it.

So I do. I grab his sleep shirt in my fists. Before his eyes can become scared or confused, I fiercely crash my lips against his in a heated kiss.

The world stops existing. And there it is again. That heating feeling that filled my core when we made love and that I have been unable to harness with anyone else since. The heat fills me now once again, and my joy at its rediscovery makes me wound one arm around a shell-shocked Peeta, pulling him closer. If my tongue wasn't parting his lips for entrance, if I had any air with which to breathe, I would scream with glee. For I now know what the heat that warms me is: _love_. Enlightened with this knowledge, I intensify the kiss, pouring in almost a year's-worth of bottled-up love.

And then Peeta kisses me back. His kiss is passionate and yet tender, almost as if he is afraid that this isn't really happening. But when I prod his mouth with my tongue, I sense his body begin to shake, and he takes me by my waist, pulling me flush against him. He is accepting me! He wants me here, wants me to kiss him! He wants me! _Me_! And it feels so, so right. So very, very right. Peeta's arms feel incredibly strong and I feel safe in his embrace. This is where I belong.

"I love you," I whisper against Peeta's lips, my voice strangely hoarse. I feel him tremble at my words.

Suddenly, he is pushing me back onto the bed, so that I lose my balance and have to pull him down with me. I now become a woman possessed, ripping at Peeta's clothes so hard, I am at risk of destroying them. My handsome baker divests me of my clothing with the same madness.

Before I know it, I lie naked before him, and he on top of me. There's the pinch again as he pushes into me, and I gasp in wonderment. Ushering his penis inside of me, it is as if I am reuniting with a long-lost friend. I throw my head back onto Peeta's pillow and groan with triumph.

"Yesssssssssss….." Thank God! At last! How I've missed this, ached for this!

The familiarity only grows as Peeta begins to thrust in and out of me. All the while, we kiss with heated tongue, though there is something tender about the way our lips dance together. Peeta's hands wander, softly memorizing every curve and crevice of my body. I inwardly chuckle. Always the consummate gentleman….

But his gallantry soon devolves into something that makes me _far_ wetter: his animalistic strength, placed on full display as he begins to pound faster and faster into me.

"Uhhhhhh…. Ohhhhhh… Ummmmmmmm….." I moan like a whore, and it must be fairly noisy, for Peeta soon muffles my cries with a kiss, determined to not wake his parents or his brothers.

"Mmmmmmm… MMMMMMMMMMMM!" I let loose a muffled squeal as Peeta accomplishes something that every other man has failed to do: make me orgasm. Make me _cum_. I writhe and buck, surfing on the waves of my own pleasure, warm and giddy as my juices pump and pulse out of me.

Peeta and I break the kiss at last. I can only stare at him with love in my eyes; his filled with wonder.

"I love you!" Peeta gets out. "Katniss, I….. may I…..?"

I know what he is asking, and my hands gently frame his face.

"Yes," I smile. And I pull my new boyfriend/lover down for a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4: Stolen Kisses, Stolen Lives

**Chapter 4: Stolen Kisses, Stolen Lives**

"Ssssshhhhhh…sssssshhhhh…..Only a nightmare….. you were dreaming….. you were dreaming….. you were dreaming…."

"It was me!" my baby sister blubbers into my shirtfront. "It was me who got Reaped!"

"It's your first year, Prim. Your name's only in there once; they're not gonna pick you," I reassure her. I am more confident in this statement than I am in most other things in my life. Prim's name is one piece of paper among thousands in the Girls Reaping Ball. The chance that she is picked for the 74th Hunger Games is about as remote as the chance that the sun falls out of the sky. Wanting to communicate this all to her in some other, soothing way, I begin to sing the song I've lulled her to sleep with since she was a baby:

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow….."

"…..a bed of grass, a soft green pillow…" She meekly sings along, a tiny grin crossing her face for the first time as I tuck her back in bed. I smile down at her.

"You remember that song, right?"

She nods.

"OK, I gotta go."

"Go where?" she pleads so sweetly, it breaks my heart.

"I just gotta go."

"To see Peeta?"

I don't answer, but I probably don't need to. Prim can work it out for herself. She's the only other person in the whole District who knows how I am now connected to the baker's son. After catching Peeta and I kissing in the back alley of his bakery while she delivered medicine to the Baker, she promised she would never tell.

"I'll be back in time for the Reaping. I love you," I tell Prim, as I slip out of her room. I check my appearance one last time in the mirror: my brown hair in one braid down my back. The blue dress that was a relic from my mother's Merchant days. Satisfied, I sneak out the door.

The walk to the Mellark Bakery is not far, as it's just over the unofficial border separating the Merchant sector from the Seam. As I've done every day for the past couple of months, I steal into the alleyway just off of the gray loading dock. I am sure…. yes! I turn, and out of a dark corner comes Peeta. I slide into his arms.

I forget about Prim, the Reaping and everything else. Holding Peeta, kissing him, I feel complete again. Centered. Happy.

When we break the kiss at last, I gasp out, "Thank goodness we have this. I'm whole again."

Peeta's fingers brush the end of my braid. "I missed you, Katniss," even though he just saw me yesterday. In this exact same spot. But I've come to appreciate my boyfriend's style as a hopeless romantic. The fact that ours is a forbidden love only helps his case.

I shiver in the circle of his arms. "I had nightmares….. that you were Reaped. I've been living with unbearable dread." I cling to him, as if to assure myself that he is real.

Peeta chuckles. "I'm all right." His eyes search mine, matched with an effortless smile that puts me at ease.

My eyes soften, grow heavy, as they gaze into his blue ones. I can sense the heat enveloping me as he draws closer, then captures my lips with his own. I let out the tiniest of whimpers before drawing away.

"Wait," and I glance furtively about, afraid that someone might see us; that Peeta's family may rise and discover us. "Not here."

"No, here!" Peeta sighs, insistently kissing me again, and I indulge him. "I'm tired of this deception; I don't care if they know we're in love!"

"Peeta, don't say things like that," I chide. "You have your status here." I smile tenderly at him. "I love you more than anything, but I won't let you give up your life as a Merchant for me."

"I've given my life to my family's bakery," Peeta says slowly, and I can tell he means every word. "But I'll only give _up_ my life for you."

"I wouldn't like that," I admit flirtatiously. "I wouldn't like that at all."

Peeta sighs happily and reaches for me, but I squirm away. "Patience, my handsome Merchant. Come to me later."

I am suddenly swept into his strong arms, my lips annihilated as he holds me close. I break from him, dizzy; I fear I may swoon. Mercifully, Peeta changes the subject.

"How's Primrose?"

"Asleep," I whisper. "Poor baby had a nightmare that she was Reaped."

"Make sure she wears something pretty," Peeta advises. "Though whatever it is, I doubt she will look as pretty as her sister!" I blush, smiling shyly at his compliment.

There's a sharp noise from somewhere in the house upstairs. "I better get back in before Mother finds me," Peeta hisses.

"Wait!" And when he turns back, I take his face in my hands and press my lips to his in the strongest kiss I can muster. "For luck!" Luck that he's not picked. That neither of us are. That we can continue to meet and kiss and make love like this until we run away and elope or are killed.

"You too," Peeta nods. "I love you!" And he scampers inside.

* * *

One would think that there would at least be an umbrella or tree or something useful for shade on a sweltering day like this.

But no, the whole of District 12 is made to stand in the Square in front of the Justice Building - open targets for the sun's blistering rays.

Every year, as punishment for a long ago uprising by the Districts against the Capitol, every District is forced to send one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18 to an annual event known as the Hunger Games. These 24 children train as tributes before being forced into a wild arena to fight to the death. The last tribute alive wins, and becomes a Victor who then mentors future tributes the next year when the whole sick process starts all over again.

Peeta and I have made it through four Reapings unscathed thus far. Though the feat is far more impressive for me. Taking out tesserae for my family means that my name goes into the Reaping Bowl extra times. The chances that my name is called are far greater than my little sister's - only in her first eligible year.

The Reaping itself is treated as a sort of ceremony; a holiday, in fact. Though only the Capitol sees it that way. Nothing about this process is festive, no matter who gets sent to their death.

As usual, Mayor Undersee begins by reciting a standard spiel, telling the story of the Dark Days and how the Hunger Games were born. I know the damn monologue by heart at this point, so I tune out and search the age groups of the boys for my lover. There he is, amongst the sixteen year olds, looking so handsome in a pressed white shirt. His eyes meet mine and he gives a tiny smile.

 _Bored?_ His lips form the word and I nod. He smiles gently. _It's OK_. Then: _I love you_. I turn away so he doesn't see me blush.

The Mayor moves on to reading the names of past District 12 Victors. In 73 years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. We predictably bow our heads for the first, in a tradition that has been occurring since at least the time I was born: Duke Vedaldi, Victor of the 13th Hunger Games. I do not know much about him, beyond that a statue of him stands at the entrance to our school.

And then, there is our… _living_ relic. Haymitch Abernathy - a paunchy, middle-aged man who became Victor of the 50th Hunger Games when he was just my age. As his name is read, Haymitch stands from the slouched position in his seat, shouting something unintelligible before he tries to give our Capitol escort, Effie Trinket, a hug. He's drunk. Very. It takes at least two Peacekeepers to wrestle him back into his seat like he's a tantruming child. The Mayor looks positively mortified, no doubt because this is currently being broadcast live to all of Panem. By the time he steps aside so Effie Trinket can take over the proceedings, he looks absolutely relieved.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Effie chirps in her usual Capitol accent. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

Effie's cheerfulness is welcomed, if for no other reason than it is relative, at least when measured against the Mayor's clear lack of enthusiasm. Our escort proceeds to select one slip of paper from the first Reaping Bowl. "Ladies first!"

I don't have time to wish that my name is not called, because it is not. It is only half-called. The other half belongs to -

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Time and space stand still. I am vaguely aware of my stupefied face meeting Peeta's to see that he is just as flabbergasted. Prim was one tiny slip of paper in thousands! Only when my eyes find Prim actually walking to take her place on the stage do I come out of my stupor.

"Prim!" My voice comes out in a strangled crackle, but my baby sister continues her shaky march to almost certain death. "Prim!" I am out of my place in line now, rushing down the center aisle. Two Peacekeepers cut me off, so I scream the only thing that might stop them, that might stop _her_ :

"I volunteer! I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

That gets everyone's attention. Except for maybe Effie's, for her call of "Wonderful!" is all that breaks the otherwise uniform silence. To her, I might as well have said I want to grow up to be a ballerina.

All I can do is take the stage, employing all my willpower to ignore my little sister's screams as Gale Hawthorne leads her away. Effie ushers me to the microphone.

"What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen," I answer mutely. My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, as though I am underwater.

"Well, I bet my hat that was your sister!" Effie trills.

"Yes…. it was….." I breathe, still sounding incredibly behind in my thought processes. _What have I just done?_

"And now for the boys!"

I refrain from looking at Peeta, knowing if I see his reaction, it will break me. But even that is not my choice to make, for Effie suddenly calls out: "Peeta Mellark!"

Whatever world I live in now - a world in which my sister was almost sacrificed, in which I will be sacrificed in her stead thanks to my own volition, in which I will have to fight to the death against the man I love and whose hand I am now blindly shaking - it is a world that I want to disappear from forever.

Except now I can't.

* * *

The only people who come to visit me are my mother and sister. Prim is inconsolable. "Just try to win, if you can!" she weeps before pressing the mockingjay pin I once gave her into my hand. "To protect you." In return, I give her a kiss on the forehead, and Mother a lecture about how to take care of her surviving child once I am officially gone.

Oh, Gale Hawthorne also pays me a visit. I pretty much learned everything there is to know about hunting from him; we have even acted as partners occasionally, sharing game. All this he reminds me of and more, telling me to get a bow however I can. With all I have learned and all of my skills, I just might win.

"There's 24 of us, Gale, only one comes out," I tell him. I do not want to give him false hope. The last thing I get to say to him is to take care of my family and "whatever you do, don't let them starve!"

Peacekeepers then escort me to a car, in which Peeta and Effie now wait. Our escort blathers on and on happily about how much we'll love the Capitol, as if we are going on a vacation or something. I tune it all out, only focused on the young man beside me. Peeta's face is turned away from me, out the window, the entire ride to the train station. I can only just see that his face is slick with fallen tears that he ironically does not bother to hide from the rest of the District just outside, yet refuses to share with me, the love of his life. I cannot say I blame him, though. Where we are going, there is no room for such frivolities like comfort.

* * *

We are on the train and pulling out of my home forever before I can blink. I now find myself in a comfortable armchair, Peeta right beside me. We still have not looked at each other since just before the Reaping, which seems like half a lifetime ago. It's a little unnerving, actually, as in a situation such as ours, I was expecting something more. No kissing? No shared tears, and promises - however fruitless - that everything will be OK?

"Katniss? Honey?"

I turn just in time to feel Peeta's lips touch mine. My eyes droop closed and I return it before he draws away a moment later.

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "It's not your fault."

"But it is. I should be comforting you. But if you don't wanna talk, that's fine -"

"We should be comforting each other," I correct him. "And protecting each other. That's what you and I do. Keep each other alive."

Peeta gazes at me with an intensity I have never seen before. "I love you," he tells me fiercely. "The arena will never change that."

I'm about to throw my arms around him and kiss him till they drag us apart in the Capitol, but I don't have time. The door ahead of us suddenly hisses open.

And there he stands. Mr. Haymitch Abernathy. With a nearly full-to-the-brim drink already in his hand and sporting a ridiculous blonde toupee that must be fake, I find it hard to imagine how this guy once emerged victorious from the Second Quarter Quell. Our mentor regards us for a moment before giving a ghost of a smile. "Congratulations."

His salutation is given without a hint of irony. Either he's one of those Victors who thinks training kids for their doom is actually fun, or he's already wasted. I guess the latter and just hope I'm right.

Our district's resident drunk plops unceremoniously into the armchair across from my boyfriend. Ever the eager student, Peeta leans forward.

"So. What do you usually do first?"

Haymitch cocks his head, the brown liquor in his glass sloshing with the motion. "Do?"

"As our mentor."

"Mentor?" And Haymitch is still making that stupid face which indicates a dangerous vagueness. Or is it indifference? I can't quite tell. God, is he that drunk already?

By the look on Peeta's face, he doesn't seem impressed with how this very one-way conversation is going. "Yeah. Our mentor. You're supposed to get us sponsors and give us advice."

Haymitch considers this, pursing his lips in thought. "Hmm. Let me see. How should I put this? Oh! Here's some advice: embrace the probability of your imminent death…. and know. In your heart. That there is _nothing_ I can do to save you."

While perhaps a realistic interpretation, his nonchalant resignation infuriates me. Evidently, Peeta is infuriated too, and done messing around.

"OK, I'm just gonna take that….", as he reaches for the booze.

His hand doesn't even touch the glass. With a liveliness I never expected, Haymitch plants his bare foot right into my lover's chest and slams him back into his armchair with such force, it wobbles.

"You made me spill my drink," Haymitch notes, his voice laced with a calm yet chilling anger. And with that, the older man rises and marches out of our train car.

The door has barely hissed shut before Peeta is out of his chair, recovered from Haymitch's shocking assault. "He's gonna come around."

"What? - It's no use!"

"I'm gonna go talk to him." And he follows Haymitch out the door, leaving me all alone.

I burrow into my armchair, arms folded, and scowl. Once Peeta puts his mind to something, he never gives up on it. In the year that we've known each other, this quality has had the ability to annoy me to no end. Perhaps it's because, truth be told, I'm a very stubborn person myself. Even when I know I'm beaten, Peeta never seems to. Now that we're headed into the arena, that mentality makes me fear for him.

Finally, when Peeta doesn't return to me after a good ten minutes, I rise with a huff and march to the door.

It turns out he and Haymitch are in the very next car. Eating together at the table. I observe Peeta talking, and what's more, Haymitch actually seems to be _listening_.

I gape. Peeta has always had a way with words, but I didn't think he could actually get the old drunk to show some investment in us. And why didn't he come to get me, if he managed to find some opening into this guy and how he operates? Already peeved and with the feeling growing, I stalk into the car and sit down at the head of the table, between them.

Peeta naively does not seem to notice my obvious annoyance.

"…. You'd freeze to death first," Haymitch is saying.

"No, cause I'd have a lot of fire."

"Well, that's a good way to killed."

"What's a good way to get killed?" I interject, seemingly alerting Haymitch to my presence for the first time.

"Oh, joy," Haymitch mutters with a sarcasm that indicates anything but joy. "So nice of you to join us. I was just giving some life-saving advice."

I lean forward, my expression neutral even though my interest is now piqued. I make a mental note to shower Peeta with praise for his remarkable feat - getting this loser off his ass - later. "Like what?"

"I was just asking about how to find shelter," Peeta offers up helpfully.

"…. which would come in handy if you were, in fact, still alive," Haymitch finishes while giving me a pointed look that I do not quite get. If he's blaming me for what happened back there…..

"How do you find shelter?" I move on.

"Pass the jam," Haymitch orders with a sigh, as if I really had just asked him how he would like to butter his toast.

"How _do_ you find shelter?" If this clueless dick can run out the patience of my boyfriend, then he is well on his way to expiring mine.

"Give me a chance to wake up, sweetheart," Haymitch growls, as he produces a small flask from the bathrobe he is still somehow inexplicably wearing in the middle of the afternoon. "This mentoring is very…. taxing stuff."

If blandly pouring your liquor into a coffee cup is what Haymitch considers 'taxing,' then he obviously has never met me. Much less knows the meaning of the word.

"Can you pass the marmalade?" he asks, even though he's already reaching for it.

That does it. I seize the nearest knife I can get my hands on and impale it into the table, just missing Haymitch's thumb and forefinger. "That is mahogany!" Effie Trinket indignantly shrieks from somewhere behind us, but I ignore her. Honestly, I don't even know what mahogany is, and frankly, I don't give a damn. I _do_ , however, give a damn about the gentleman who cannot seemed to be bothered to help my boyfriend and I save our own skins.

My sudden tour de force clearly catches Haymitch off guard, but he does not let his surprise show for long. "Look at you," he drolls, thoroughly unimpressed by my actions. "You just killed a…. placemat." He plucks the knife from the wood as though it is a twig.

"You really wanna know how to stay alive?" he queries rhetorically. "You get people to like you."

My silence seems to egg on his prodding, as he must feel he has somehow hit a nerve. Worse, I don't know if he's wrong. "Oh. Not what you were expecting. When you're in the middle of the Games, and you're starving, or freezing, some water, a knife or even some matches can mean the difference between life and death. And those things only come from _sponsors_. And to get sponsors…. you have to make people like you. And right now, sweetheart? You're not off to a real good start."

His diatribe against my personality ends in him stuffing his face with a roll.


	5. Chapter 5: Training & Interviews

**Chapter 5: Training & Interviews**

The Capitol is as beautiful and extravagant as I imagined or ever saw on TV. As soon as Haymitch, Peeta and I disembark from the train, throngs of screaming citizens wearing loud, flashy clothing and jewelry try to evade the paparazzi to greet us.

A limousine takes us to a special medical facility. I look to Haymitch wonderingly.

"Stylists," he reminds me shortly.

Ah, yes. Before we begin training, all the tributes must be prepped by their assigned stylist so as to appear pretty before all of the Capitol. Upon entering the place, I only just have time to squeeze Peeta's hand before we are separated. Being primped and preened into something Capitol-worthy would be so much more bearable if I at least had a friend to commiserate with.

But it turns out, I do. Upon greeting me, my dark-skinned stylist praises me. "That was the most wonderful thing you did, for your sister. My name is Cinna."

"Katniss," I return. There's a pause where Cinna appears to be looking me up and down. "So, you were assigned to District 12?"

"I asked for District 12," he smiles, and somehow I can tell he's sincere. His admission surprises me. Twelve is probably the biggest loser district of them all, given our god-awful victory record. That any Capitolite would want to even touch us makes me grant Cinna a great deal of respect.

Still - "So, you're here to make me look pretty?" That's his job, after all.

"I'm here for you to make an _impression_ ," he corrects me, and the way he puts it makes me feel somewhat better about my circumstances.

* * *

Cinna dresses me in a sleek gray jumpsuit and pants, but tells me that the real 'impression' won't come until that night during the Tributes Parade in the City Circle.

When Effie drops me off at the chariot stables that evening, I see Peeta already waiting in a matching jumpsuit. With his blond hair sleeked back and coifed, he looks quite sexy and I have to banish any dirty thoughts from my mind.

Haymitch is by my boyfriend's side, and so is Cinna, carrying a small object in his hand.

"Are you ready?" he asks, holding the object slightly aloft.

"For what? What is that?"

"This is going to set your clothes on fire." Cinna says this without a shred of irony.

Peeta stares. "You're joking," but Cinna ignores him, eyes only for me. Staring back at him, I have an overwhelming wave of trust wash over me. I nod once. He approaches with what must be a lighter.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," I reply automatically, and I give Peeta a look that says if he can't trust Cinna, he should at least trust me. Peeta nods solemnly, getting the silent message.

But instead of lighting anything, Cinna presses the lighter into my hand. And I realize it isn't a lighter at all - it's a button, the kind that contestants would press on game time quiz shows. "Press this when you're ready." He hands a second one to Peeta.

The tributes are now scrambling to get into their chariots. As Peeta and I approach ours, he playfully bows before me. "Allow me, mademoiselle."

I smile at his boyish charm. "Why, thank you, kind sir!" and I let him take my hand and help me up into the chariot.

Being the very last tribute pair to go, it takes a bit before our chariot even starts to move. As we emerge into the bright lights of the city and hear the roar of the crowd, I instinctively know what to do.

"Now!" I holler to Peeta.

And we press the buttons.

All at once, I feel a tingly heat race up around my body. But it is not like the kind I experience when Peeta and I make love. No, this heat feels more…. artificial, but nevertheless soothing.

Then, I hear the roars of the crowd reach a fever pitch. Amidst all the cheering, I hear one call in particular: my name.

"Katniss! Katniss! Katniss! Katniss!"

By the time our chariot reaches the City Circle and President Snow has given his address, all the other tributes are staring at Peeta and me in jealousy.

Talk about an impression, indeed.

* * *

The very next morning, Haymitch takes us down in an elevator to the first floor of the Tribute Training Center. It will be our home for the next four days while we train for the arena, and prepare for our televised interviews with Caesar Flickerman.

"Now, remember," Haymitch warns us. "Use this time to learn something new. Do not show off your strengths."

"Got it," I nod.

"Oh, and one more thing," our mentor adds before releasing us. "You two stick together like glue."

This last instruction throws me. I had always assumed Peeta and I could split up and cover more ground. We can take care of ourselves. This rationalization leads me to break off from him about an hour or so into our session. My boyfriend does not seem to mind and, figuring he can handle himself, I continue to ignore Haymitch's advice by reviewing my knowledge at the Edible Plants section. When I tire of that, I return to find Peeta painting his arm to match the bark of a fake tree. I stare.

"That's amazing!" I breathe.

"Is it?" he shrugs self-deprecatingly. "I used to decorate the cakes down at the bakery."

I smile. "You never told me that!"

He laughs. "Playing up my wrestling skills seemed to be a much more effective way to court you."

I smile.

Later in the day, I am learning about knife throwing when I see Peeta over in the Ropes Course sector. Struggling to climb a netted ladder, he ends up twisting himself in the thing and falls the few feet to the floor.

Laughter makes me glance over to the Careers - the tributes from District 1, 2 and 4 who illegally train for the Games since birth and always form an alliance. They win the thing almost every year.

And they are now looking at my boyfriend as though he is their dinner or something. Fiercely protective, I get an idea and race over to Peeta's side.

"Throw that metal thing over there," I tell him, eyeing some giant weight balls over on a nearby rack.

"What?" Peeta pants. "But Haymitch said -"

"I don't care what Haymitch said. Frankly, I haven't cared all day. Those guys are looking at you like you're a meal. Throw it."

Peeta gets to his feet and approaches the rack. Selecting the biggest metal ball he can find, he manages to carry it to the center of the Training Floor. With all his might, he hurls the thing so hard, it slams into a rack of spears almost on the other side of the room.

I immediately search for the Careers' reaction. Their leader - a blond, imposing boy from District 2 named Cato - simply shrugs and murmurs something to his companions that I cannot make out. But, from the look on his face, he appears to be…. impressed.

* * *

On the evening of the second day, I enter our apartment's dining room, ready for my coaching session with Haymitch and Peeta. But I only find my mentor at the table.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask him as I sit down.

"Not coming," Haymitch tells me, and I'm surprised. I didn't think Haymitch was the kind of teacher who would just permit absences, excused or otherwise.

"Why? Is he sick?" I remind myself to check on him in his room once I'm done here.

Haymitch shrugs. "Peeta has said he wants to be coached separately."

My being feels as though it has been untethered from reality. Even though Haymitch has probably already seen the hurt in my eyes, I promptly get up and leave the room. I am grateful the old man doesn't follow me. The door to my room has barely closed before I collapse on my bed in tears.

Why would Peeta no longer want to be coached with me? Is this because of how I have mostly stayed separate of him in Training? He's never seemed bothered by it, and even if he was, he would tell me. Right? Couples tell each other things.

Another horrid explanation strikes me, and it sends me spiraling down into deeper despair. The man I love is preparing to kill me. That must be it! When was the last time we even kissed? Was it…. on the train? Has Peeta finally accepted that the arena is no place for love? Is he letting me go? Is he finally placing his own survival over how he feels about me?

With thoughts like this stewing inside of me, I cry myself to sleep.

* * *

The next day is our last day of Training and our private session with the Gamemakers. I am the second-to-last called. As I leave, Peeta calls out, "Shoot straight, honey." Thoughts both warm and bristling go to war in my head over his pet name for me. I do not say anything.

My frustration only gets worse when I perceive that none of the Gamemakers are even bothering to watch my session, their attention instead focused on a giant suckling pig. Enraged, I shoot an arrow right through the apple in the pig's mouth. That gets their attention. I mockingly bow.

"Thank you for your consideration."

By the time I return to our team's apartment, Haymitch, Effie and Cinna have all heard about my stunt. Haymitch thinks it's hilarious; Effie is appalled at my apparent lack of manners. Cinna breaks the tie by praising me, though gently. "You were well within your rights to demand their attention, Katniss; you are a tribute, after all."

When Peeta returns from his session and hears the whole story, he flashes me a winning grin that cannot help but warm my heart. "I'm proud of you," he declares. And despite the fact that he hurt me with his wish to be coached separately, I smile back at him.

Outnumbered 3 to 1, Effie has no choice but to join us on the couch to watch the Training Scores be broadcast live. Except for the Careers and their predictably high scores, everyone else's are mediocre. Then we get to District 12.

"First we have Peeta Mellark, with a score of 8." Caesar announces.

This seems to finally reverse Effie's mood, for she praises Peeta in her rather awkward way. "We can work with that."

"And last, but not least, we have the lovely Katniss Everdeen with a score of…." There is a pause as Caesar peers closer at the paper. Is something wrong?

"11."

11!

Effie lets out a squeal and Haymitch whoops like some kind of cowboy. I turn to find a stunned Peeta pulling me into a hug. "Congratulations," he whispers in my ear, and I dare to lean my head on his shoulder.

Cinna doles out champagne for the adults and immediately proposes a toast. "To Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!"

* * *

The next night are the interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Ordinarily, being paraded in front of all of Panem would and should be terrifying for someone like me, whose social skills are average at best. However, with Cinna's wonderful red dress that he designed for me, I feel I at least have something to turn to in conversation. Or to hide behind. I am not quite sure yet.

As with the Training Scores, only a few tributes stand out to me. Cato comes off as extremely arrogant, expecting to come back alive as the champion. The redheaded girl from 5 is sly and elusive. There is a little black girl from District 11 that reminds me painfully of Prim.

Before I know it, it's my turn. As I take the stage, I can just hear the roar of the crowd and I shake Caesar's hand in a fog. My stupor is so great that I know he's asked me a question already, but I cannot focus on what it is.

"What?" I blink stupidly.

"Uh oh, I think someone's a little nervous," Caesar laughs, graciously giving me a save. The crowd laughs, plays along. "I said: How did you feel when those flames came on at the Tribute Parade?"

I think back to the advice Cinna gave me in my dressing room: _Be honest_.

"Well, I was just hoping I wouldn't burn to death," I reply sheepishly.

Caesar eats it up, and his easygoing nature actually relaxes me. "In fact, I'm wearing some today. Would you like to see?"

Neither Caesar nor the audience seems to know what I mean. So I show them. Standing from my chair, I begin to twirl as Cinna instructed me to. Flames all at once begin to lap up the hem of my dress. I can hear the audience shrieking in delight, spy Caesar clapping his hands in rapture. I soon have to sit down before I get too dizzy.

"My, my, Katniss! That was marvelous!" The audience cheers in agreement with Caesar. The interviewer's expression grows somber.

"I have one more question for you. It's about your sister. What did you say to her after the Reaping?"

No. I can joke about fire and twirl for these people, but I cannot bear my soul to them about my precious little sister. But then I remember Cinna's words: _Be honest_.

"I told her that I would try to win. That I would try to win for her." There. At least then I can be honest while keeping the details to myself.

"Of course you did," Caesar smiles. "And try you will." He kisses my hand as time expires. "Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on FIRE!"

The audience goes nuts at my exit. I head for the wings, hearing the applause continue as my boyfriend enters from the other side of the stage. Back with Haymitch and Effie, I watch Peeta begin his talk with Caesar.

I have always known my lover to be charming and that he has a great sense of humor. He puts it to good use with Caesar, turning a question about the Capitol's showers into a running gag that involves him and the host sniffing each other. At last, Caesar manages to pull himself together after nearly crying with laughter and turns serious.

"Now, Peeta, tell me: Is there a special girl back home?"

"No, nah, there isn't," Peeta chuckles.

"I don't believe it for a second! Look at that face!" Caesar plays to the crowd. "Peeta: tell me."

There is a pause. What will he do? What do I _want_ him to do? Do I want him to make our relationship public in front of the entire country? Or will he refrain? If he chooses the latter and plays coy, is that an explanation for why he has been so distant in his display of affection for me? But Peeta is now answering.

"Well, there is this one girl that I've been in love with forever. And she loves me back. But I don't think I appreciated how much until the Reaping."

I think I know where this is going. He is going to be honest, while still keeping what should be private as private.

"Well, Peeta, you go out there, and you _win_ this thing, and when you get home, she will love you even more. I bet she'll even marry you! Right folks?" The audience screams encouragement.

Peeta chuckles. "Thanks, but I don't think winning is going to help me at all."

"And whyever not?"

"Because she came here with me."

My mouth falls open. He outed me! He just outed our relationship in front of the entire country! I feel a new kind of heat begin to build within me now. And it isn't love.

Caesar, for his part, looks speechless and crestfallen. "Oh. Well, that's just bad luck."

"Yeah it is," Peeta morosely sighs.

The audience is taking it worse than either of them. Some are openly weeping, a few have given agonized cries. But Caesar reverses fortunes quickly, by bidding Peeta a hearty farewell. "And I think I speak for all of Panem when I say: our hearts go with yours."

* * *

A new kind of heat has built up in me, all right. Except it isn't love.

It's rage.

That boiling rage makes me target my lover like a heat-seeking missile. As soon as I spot him, I promptly pin him to the wall by the throat.

"What the hell was that I?" I shriek, finally letting the bottled-up emotions of the last several days out into the open. "You don't so much as hold my hand for four days and now you make our relationship public? Oh, but you wanna be coached separately?"

"Hey. Hey!" Haymitch is on me now, as he and Effie pull us apart. Turning to face me, my mentor eyes me sternly. "He did you a favor."

I suddenly have even less faith in Haymitch's basic vocabulary skills than I did on the train, if he can somehow interpret what just happened up there as a 'favor.' "He made me look weak!" I spit.

"He made you look desirable!" Haymitch snaps. "Now, I can sell the Star-Crossed Lovers act -"

"Unfortunately, my _boyfriend_ and I are actually in love," I drawl, sneering at Peeta over Haymitch's shoulder.

"Whatever. At least now I can honestly say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet! Which do you think will get you more sponsors: that, or my saying you're about as exciting as a bump on a log?" Haymitch points between me and Peeta. "Whatever issues you lovebirds have right now: deal with them. By 10 AM tomorrow morning." And he orders me to my room while Effie leads Peeta away.

* * *

It only takes about a half an hour of just lying in bed and staring at the ceiling to realize that I can't sleep. As much as I hate to admit it, there is only one thing that could get me to enjoy one last peaceful night before I have to fight for my life.

Slipping out of my room, I go across the hall to Peeta's door and tentatively knock. I'm surprised when he answers after only about a minute.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Couldn't sleep?" I shake my head.

He sighs. "Well, that makes two of us. Come on in." Taking me by the hand, he pulls me into his room. Not once breaking our contact, he slips into his bed and helps me in beside him, nestling me into his embrace without a word.

It dawns on me how much I've missed this. The feeling of lying in his embrace, in his bed after we've had sex or kissed until our lips are bruised. I savor the moment, the silence, the sensation of just _being_ with him. Nothing need be done. Nothing need be said. Peeta finally breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been so distant with you. And…. I should have told you my plan for my interview."

I turn my head against his chest, looking up to find his gaze. "Is that why you wanted to be coached separately?"

"That was the reason, yes. I'm sorry if you ever thought otherwise. I never wanted to hurt you."

"I understand," I whisper. "And…. I forgive you." I let out a long sigh. "But it doesn't change the fact that we're going into an arena of death tomorrow."

"Hey, now, what did I tell you on the train?" Peeta cups my face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing away that tears that linger there. "I. Love. You. The arena will never change that."

"But death can," I whine plaintively. But Peeta just smiles in the face of this crushing reality.

"Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is….. delay it for a little while."

He kisses me at long last, and I close my eyes, failing to hold back a moan. "Hmmmmmmm….." He pulls away far too quickly, and I am desperately reaching for him, not wanting this moment to end, when I notice the pensive expression on his face.

"What's wrong, my love?"

"I….. I just wish I could think of a way to show them…. that they don't own me," Peeta ponders. "Does that make any sense?" He glances back to me and I nod vigorously, urging for him to continue. "You know if…. if I'm probably going to die…. I want to still be me."

I take him in my arms and press my lips to his, making the kiss deep and lingering. "You will be," I murmur against his lips. "But…." and I lace my fingers through his. "I cannot afford to think like that. And neither can you. Let's just stay alive, like Haymitch said, and focus on whatever time we have left together."

Peeta and I fall asleep in each other's arms, kissing until our eyes close from sheer exhaustion.


	6. Chapter 6: All's Fair in Love and War

**Chapter 6: All's Fair in Love and War**

The sudden knocking at the wooden door jolts me out of sleep. I whine like a small child and snuggle closer to Peeta, feel him place a kiss to my temple.

"I have to go," I whimper, slowly rising off his chest.

"Sweetheart, wait." When I turn back, he takes his face in my hands and kisses me, his tongue slithering its way into my mouth. I close my eyes and kiss back, humming in pleasure.

"Go," Peeta whispers when we break apart. "I'll meet you in there. Find you someway." A pause: "I love you."

"And I, you," I smile sweetly, before slipping out of his chambers to meet Effie.

After some prepping from my stylists, Cinna escorts me to the hovercraft, promising to meet me before I am launched into the arena. Placed in my seat, a Capitol attendant injects the tracker into my arm. Wouldn't want to lose a tribute.

A short flight later, I am hustled underground into a room resembling a holding cell, where Cinna waits for me. For the first time, he gets a good look at my arena garb.

"Jacket, sweatpants... but not too heavy. I'd guess some kind of tundra with chilly nights, but not freezing," he guesses. He seems to remember something. "Oh! And there's one more thing - to complete the look."

He fastens something small and golden to the front of my jacket. I realize it's the Mockingjay pin Prim gave to me. The Capitol had taken it from me when I arrived, and I assumed I would never see it again. I search Cinna's face, wanting to ask how he...

He only puts a finger to his lips, shaking his head. However he got it, he must have done so without anyone's permission or knowledge. My eyes fill with tears.

"Thank you," I choke out in a whisper. I unexpectedly hug him - a display of affection I had only previously reserved for my family, and more recently, Peeta.

"As a stylist, I'm not allowed to bet. But if I could, I'd bet on you." Cinna means every word he says, that much is clear. He gently escorts me to the launching pod, as an intercom gives a ten-second warning. Moments later, the glass seals around me. I look back to Cinna; now cut off from him, I allow myself to reveal fear for the very first time. Cinna only nods solemnly. Then, the pod is elevating me up, up, up into a natural and yet unnatural world...

When the sunlight finally ceases in blinding my vision, I can observe that I am in what looks like the clearing of a large, foresty wilderness. The sight heartens me, as it almost tricks me into believing I am at home on a hunt. Observing the other tributes around me keeps me grounded as to where I actually am and what my task will be, but even this is only a small rattle. Trapped in what are actually my most natural surroundings, just with other people, I recall words Gale spoke to me about killing tributes versus killing animals. _How different can it be, really?_

Beyond me lies the great metal horn known as the Cornucopia, containing all the supplies and weapons we tributes will fight over. And there, a few yards from the mouth, I spot it - a bow and arrows! If I can get to it and then turn tail...

I perform another sweep of my competition, and I now finally spy the love of my life. Peeta. He's about four tribute pedestals to my right, and when our eyes meet, he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

More than a year of close friendship, romantic relationship and sleeping together enlightens me instantly to what my lover is silently telling me. He's seen the bow, and knows I have too. His message is clear:

 _Don't go for it, sweetheart._

I furrow my brow in confusion, pinging a silent message back to him. _What do you mean? I need a weapon._ _We_ _need a weapon..._

And I've missed it! I've missed my chance! For the minute of waiting on our pedestals is up; the gong has sounded. The Games are on! Tributes spring off their pedestals and charge for the attaché surrounding the horn. Peeta is right with them, though I am confused and dismayed to see that he is running away from the fight and to the trees beyond, utterly defenseless.

I gather my wits and try to make up for lost time, sprinting for an orange backpack that isn't too far ahead of me. Unfortunately, another tribute - the boy from 9, I think? - gets there at exactly the same time I do, and we grapple for the prize.

All at once, the boy coughs hot, thick, blood right into my face and goes down. I see the knife in his back before I do its owner, the vicious girl from District 2 named Clove.

Who now hurls a projectile at me.

Reflexively, I block the attack with the backpack I have now won by default. There's no time to get the bow; I have to get out of here! Scrambling to my feet, I turn tail and run for the trees. I don't make it very far into the treeline before the ground falls out from under me as I cross over the edge of a steep embankment. I roll clumsily through the leaves, landing in a heap at the bottom of the slope before I pick myself up and keep going.

I judge myself to be about a mile or two away from the fighting when I finally pause to rest. I got out of there alive, with nothing but the clothes on my back, an orange pack with contents still unknown, and a knife as my only weapon.

The sound of cannons interrupts my thoughts. The bloodbath must be over! I reach twelve before the booms halt.

Half gone. As a ratio, it's pretty standard for any Games. About half of the tributes - mostly the weaker ones with one or two surprise exceptions - die the first day, leaving the stronger ones to fight it out over the following weeks.

 _All right, Katniss. You know where you stand. Time to focus now._

Setting up snares keeps me calm, though I admit I would feel more at ease if I had a bow in my hands. But with what I have to work with, I manage to catch a rabbit and skin it for a late lunch/early dinner. The sun is setting by the time I finish my meal, and I decide that my safest strategy for now is to burrow in a tree for the night. It's a fairly good bet to think that most to none of the other tributes know how to climb trees, or at least, know how to climb them as well as I do. Plus, I have discovered a coil of rope in my backpack that will be perfect for an anchor; I can now go to sleep with little fear of toppling out of my natural sanctuary.

Not long after I burrow myself on a branch, the Panem anthem begins to play. And with it, the faces of the dead appear in the sky, which I observe through a gap in the tree canopy.

The first to appear is the girl from 3. The boy from 4. The boy from 5. Both from 6. Both from 7. The boy from 8. Both from 9, which includes the boy I fought for the backpack.

There should be one more, and I panic, thinking of my romantic partner for the first time. Is it Peeta? Oh, God, please, no...

But it's not. It's the girl from 10.

Deflating in relief, I sink against the trunk of the tree and fall asleep at once.

* * *

A sudden scream in the night wakes me up with a start. Glancing about wildly, I spy the faint glow of a small fire a short distance away. I want to snort. Whatever idiot girl (I could tell that much from the scream) thought lighting a blaze in the middle of the night was a good idea, she must not have wanted to win that badly. I soon hear laughter from her likely murderers.

"Thirteen down, and ten to go!" someone crows, and I stiffen, my body pounding with adrenaline and blood. The Careers. The most powerful tributes in the Games and they are yards away from my hiding place. Even with the tree's height advantage, if they spy me, I will be a sitting duck. They will stop at nothing to bring me down.

Indeed, my anxiety grows as the band draws closer, laughing and cheering. Then, when I judge them to be just below my tree, they stop. Oh, Jesus. Have they discovered me?

"What gives? Where's the cannon?" and I can tell the indignant inquiry comes from Cato. In fact, if I turn my head just right, I can see his head through the bramble. If only I had a bow... a shot to his temple would be oh so easy...

"Maybe that means she isn't dead," another male voice - the boy from 1, probably - hypothesizes. It's a stupidly obvious conclusion.

"She's dead. I cut her myself," Cato protests, his outrage growing.

"There wasn't a cannon, Cato! Don't you know the rules?"

"I said she's dead!"

A shouting match nearly ensues, when a third male voice cuts them all off. "We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!"

I am safely anchored to the tree, but I nearly fall out of it anyway. For I know that voice. It is the voice that has whispered to me in my bed when I'm awake and haunted my dreams whilst I'm asleep.

Peeta.

I have no power with which to think, as a brief silence reigns while Peeta goes back for the girl. All too soon, I hear footsteps returning, then the long-awaited cannon.

"Ready to move on?" my lover asks nonchalantly, as if he has just returned from snapping a photo of the scenic view.

The Career pack takes off at a run, but I can just observe Cato and Glimmer, the girl from 1, hanging back.

"Are you sure we shouldn't just kill him now?"

"Nah," and Cato almost seems to be flirting with the blonde bimbo. "He's our best chance of finding her. Let's go."

Their departure finally gives me time to process all that I have witnessed. And to sort out what it all means.

The obvious factor is Peeta. Suddenly, it all makes sense. His distancing himself from me. His request to be coached separately. His silent warning to not go for the bow and then leaving without me.

He planned to team up with the Careers. He planned it all along. How he managed to succeed, I don't know, though I figure his show of strength in the Training Center may have given him an opening.

Though his declaration of love at his interview, and our making up afterwards, seem counterintuitive to all this, I am able to twist it to fit the narrative falling into place in my head. These late displays of affection were probably feigned, to throw me off his scent.

I want to cry. For my suspicion in the middle of training had been right all along. Our beautiful love affair is over. Whatever Peeta and I had, it's gone. He means to hand me, the now-former love of his life, over to the Careers.

My eyes glistening with tears I am not willing to shed, least of all for the Capitol's entertainment, I go back to sleep.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of BOOMs. Is it more cannons? No, there's a grating WHEESH preceding each explosion.

I yelp when I see the tree opposite me literally explode in flames from a flying fireball.

I hurriedly drop out of my tree with my things, and run for my life. Fireballs pelt the ground all around me, and I dodge them as best I can. Suddenly, one of them hurtles straight at my face, and I dodge out of the way just in time, rolling down another embankment just to avoid it.

Standing from my tumble leaves me momentarily vulnerable, and a fireball grazes my thigh. I cry out in pain, and now limp to a small rocky outcropping that provides some cover.

The fireball has singed a hole in my pants, and is well on its way to burning my skin, though the flames itself have been put out. A likely artificial Gamemaker trap such as this one will not be alleviated by natural remedies. I need medicine.

Haymitch's words on the train echo back to me: _And those things only come from_ _sponsors_ _._

If my mentor has seen my plight, he will likely be working the circuit, trying to get me relief. But that will take time. Right now, the best I can hope for is to numb the pain with herbal leaves that my mother has used for burns. Or...

Water!

I spy the river just a few yards from my refuge and stagger into the currents. The healing is not complete, but still significant so that it will do for now.

A sudden whoop jars me, and I turn, horrified, to see the Careers coming up the rocky slopes further downstream. And they have spotted me!

As fast as my injured leg will allow, I wade out of the river and search for a tree. I try to stay as relatively calm as possible, even as the Careers' taunts float towards me.

"Where you going? Where you going, baby?"

"Whoo! She's ours now!"

Ignoring the hurt, I scramble up a trunk of decent height, climbing higher, higher, higher still. By the time I am roughly fifteen feet up, the Careers - and Peeta - are just arriving at the tree's base, circling like wolves.

The tree does not seem to deter Cato, so he must at least know how to climb one. Divesting himself of his weapons, he resolves to scale up after me and kill me with sheer muscle. How arrogant of him.

"I'm coming for you!" he grins evilly, growling as he begins the ascent. Below, his allies holler encouragement. Interestingly, Peeta is the only one remaining respectfully silent.

"Kill her, Cato! Just kill her, Cato!" Clove's impatience over my wanted demise makes her jump up and down like some kind of little imp.

When Cato is about five feet up, there is a sharp CRACK as the branch he rests on gives out from under him. He tumbles to the earth, swearing like a fiend as he embarrassingly staggers to his feet. Whether his curses are aimed at the tree's effrontery or mine, I cannot tell.

"Oh, forget it! I'll gut her myself!" and I barely have time to register the horror over my own weapon of choice being used against me before Glimmer aims an arrow my way. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to know how to use the thing, as her projectile shoots skyward and misses me by a mile.

Even the boy from District 1, probably the most subdued member of the group after Peeta, loses his patience; he stamps his foot like a little child who has been refused a cookie. "Now what?"

"We wait her out," and the Careers turn at Peeta's outburst, visibly surprised by its assertiveness. Evidently, someone else (likely Cato) is usually charged with calling the shots. My former lover just shrugs. "I mean, she's gotta come down at some point; it's that or starve to death."

His suggestion is approved, if only tepidly, and the Careers begin to gather firewood. Peeta lingers for only a moment, gazing up at me in the tree before nodding his head once.

The gesture is so surprising, I forget to glower at him. But this second silent signal, plus the look in his eyes, leaves me confused. What does he think he's playing at? What are his motives, allowing the Careers to hunt me down? I thought I had the answer based on last night's small slaughter, but now I'm not so sure. All I can do is anchor myself to the tree again as night falls.

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, I nearly slip off my branch when I spy a pair of eyes - _human_ eyes - observing me from the tree just next to mine. As I peer closer, I realize the eyes belong to Rue, the little girl from District 11 who is like Prim except for darker skin. Seeing she has my attention, she points down.

I follow her gaze. Below, the Career's fire is nearly out, its last smoky tendrils mingling with the early morning mist. What is more, every single one of them is asleep, even Peeta, who was apparently supposed to take watch per Cato's orders.

My eyes return to Rue's. Now she's pointing up. Once again, I follow along, this time observing a nest of tracker jackers.

And with just two silent motions, Rue has helped to form a plan in my head. I have the knife from Clove's attack at the start of the Games! Cut the nest free with it, and the tracker jackers will fall right on the Careers and their camp.

Silently, I go out onto a limb - literally. The one with the nest on it. Working as quietly as I can, I begin to saw the nest away from the branch.

As the morning grows later, I can sense the Careers beginning to stir. Come on... come on... I'm almost done! I pause for the briefest instant near the end of my task and look down to Peeta's dozing form. Unbidden, a thought of regret appears. _Peeta, I'm sorry_.

I cut the branch free. The nest plunges to the earth and shatters open upon impact, the tracker jackers attacking the first things it sees as responsible for disturbing their home.

Screams split the air as the Careers awaken and blindly try to evade the surprise attack. They make for the lake that lies in the distance near the Cornucopia. But not all of them get the chance. The tracker jacker's stings claim two lives: Glimmer and the girl from 4.

The camp now deserted and my path clear, I jump from the tree. Seeing that Glimmer's bloated corpse is still clutching the bow, I work to pry it free from her grasp before the hovercrafts come to collect the dead.

Unfortunately, such a task leaves me vulnerable to lingering tracker jackers. I get stung once, then again. I finally work the bow and arrows into my hands just as a third sting finds its mark.

As I begin to stumble away, I hear cries.

"Katniss, go!" Peeta is suddenly in front of me. "What are you doing? Get out of here, go! I'll come find you!"

What does he mean, he'll come find me? But I cannot voice this, for Peeta suddenly takes me in his arms and kisses me full on the mouth.

"MMMMMMMMM!" Remembering that I am supposed to hate him for his betrayal, I squeal in outrage at his advance. I would slap his face, but something seems to have gone wrong with my one arm thanks to the tracker jacker venom.

My other arm is fine, though. I could... kiss him back... then maybe... knife him...

Before I get the chance, Peeta releases me and pushes me into the trees. My opportunity gone and already feeling weak, I stagger away as quick as I can. My head feels like it's roaring, and only one clear thought stays in my mind: a recollection of commentary by Caesar Flickerman, from a previous Hunger Games. Wait... there he is now, strolling blithely through the trees! How is he in the arena?

"Not only are tracker jacker stings filled with poisonous venom, they also induce powerful hallucinations..."

All goes black before I hit the ground.


	7. Chapter 7: Here Comes the Boom

**Chapter 7: Here Comes the Boom**

When I awaken, I am surprised to find my arms and legs covered in leaves. Not just covered... pasted to my skin...

I survey my surroundings. A small fire is going just off to one side. And next to me...

I smile in relief, for it is my little helper. Rue. Somehow, I know she won't hurt me.

She must think that, though. Despite my clearly vulnerable position, she scrambles away from me in fear when she sees I'm awake.

"It's OK," I reach out with a smile. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Remembering that I still have some leftover rabbit from my first day in the arena, I share it with the little girl to earn her trust. She inhales the thing, evidently not having had a decent meal in days.

"How long was I out?" I ask, as she eats.

"Couple of days," she shrugged. "I changed your leaves twice."

I am impressed by her resourcefulness in healing; it's almost as good as my mother's. Also, if I really was out for as long as she says, it's a miracle none of the other tributes came across us.

That reminds me... "Anyone else die?"

She nods. "The boy from 10."

I don't remember much about that tribute, only that he had a crippled leg. How many of us are left? I am still too weak to even bother trying to count.

"Is all of that true?" Rue's sudden question startles me.

"What?"

She smirks conspiratorially. "You and him." And she makes kissy faces.

I smile in amusement, for once again, she reminds me so much of my sister. Even before I met Peeta, Prim would tease me constantly about boys. It was a rather foolish notion then, because I had never been particularly open to making friends, girls or guys, much less forming a romantic relationship. I had never even planned to marry, though Prim once shocked me by telling me I was quite the beauty of our District, and that men would likely try to court me as a suitor. At that time, I had laughed off such a claim as ridiculous, but then I met Peeta... and once we became romantically involved, Prim's teasing became newly justified.

As for the little girl standing before me now, I decide to play coy by not answering. I turn the tables by volleying a question of my own back to her. "So where are Cato and the others?"

As I predicted, Rue readily has the answer: "They've got all their supplies down by the lake. It's piled up in this great big pyramid."

I grin. "That sounds... tempting," teasing her as a big sister would.

* * *

We huddle together for warmth that night, but don't find sleep. We are too busy hashing out the final details of our plan. At first light, I commission Rue with finding plenty of firewood and other underbrush, and by mid-morning we have enough kindling to light three rather large, controlled burns.

"OK, I'm going to spy on their camp. Light the first fire, then head up north, light the second. Do the same thing with the third. I'll meet you at the last fire."

"But how will we now each of us is OK?" Rue wonders. Then, she answers her own question. "I have an idea. Repeat after me."

She whistles a four-note tune. After a moment, the mockingjays in the area copy it. "Now you try."

I obey, and the mockingjays sing it back.

"Whistle that when you're at their camp so I'll know to light the first fire," Rue instructs. Then she whistles another, slightly varied tune. "That means, I'm OK and we'll see each other soon."

I give her a parting hug, and head for the Career's camp. Hiding just within the treeline, I observe a new development.

Peeta is no longer with them.

I frown, and go back through all that I know. Rue did not say that she had seen Peeta's face in the sky. But would she lie, to try and protect me? Somehow, I doubt this: Rue does not seem like the kind of person who would just lie. And even if she did lie, her questioning of Peeta's and my relationship would not make sense, or at least not seem convincing.

To make up for my kills with the tracker jacker nest, and Peeta's... abandonment? Escape?... the three surviving Careers have taken on a new ally: the boy from 3. He's young, and not very big, with only a spear slung over his shoulder.

Just then, Cato shouts and points at something in the distance. Damn it! I forgot to whistle the first signal, so Rue must have just gone on ahead. Still, the slip is not fatal - I hope.

"Let's go," Cato motions to Clove and the boy from 1. "You stay here and stand guard," he says to the boy from 3.

"But what about Lover Boy?"

"I'm telling you, forget about him - I know where I cut him. Now, move!" And the Careers sprint off to the other side of the clearing, towards the fire in the distance.

I try not to let myself become overcome with distress. It's both amazing and disturbing how much intelligence I have gathered just from Cato's big fat mouth alone. At some point after my attack and subsequent flight, Cato must have attacked and critically injured Peeta.

But why? Did Peeta try and desert? Wait... he helped me get out of that mess with the tracker jackers. Did Cato become aware of this, and deem it an act of betrayal? And if so, what does that mean for Peeta? What does that mean for... us? I have the strangest feeling that my narrative explaining Peeta's alliance with the Careers has been turned completely on its head.

Even more frightening, Cato's throwaway comment of _'forget about him'_ seems to imply that he thinks my lover is not long for this world.

My musings are interrupted when I see a new figure approach the camp. She has long red hair, and a furtive countenance about her. A flashback to the interviews strikes me. It's the sly, elusive girl from District 5! I think I had nicknamed her Foxface at one point.

As I watch with intrigue, she approaches the pyramid of supplies. Without even pausing, she begins to hop around, moving closer and closer to the pile. When she reaches the stash, she seizes a backpack and completes the weird, interpretive dance perfectly in reverse before vanishing into the trees.

What was that all about? Whatever that girl did was clearly a pattern, something she either observed or learned. And why would a pile of supplies be just sitting there, if someone could pick-pocket from it so easily?

Then, the answer comes to me.

"It's mined," I whisper. This new twist neatly explains the participation of the boy from 3. Their district is filled with technology experts. He probably bartered for his life by digging up the landmines under the tribute pedestals for Cato, then replanting them around the stash. No wonder Cato left such a tiny guy like him as a guard! With that kind of firepower, the Careers don't even need one!

Fortunately, I know mines well, since my father made his living from them and died in one. And I am not here to steal supplies, as Foxface did.

I'm here to destroy supplies.

Notching an arrow to my bow, I take aim at a bag of apples hanging off the hoard. With one clean shot, I slice open the bag so that the fruit tumbles out...

Right onto the waiting landmines.

KABOOM! The blast knocks me off my feet and deeper into the trees. When I come out of my dazed state a moment later, what was once the arena's supply is now a pile of ash.

I wonder if I inadvertently killed the boy from 3 as well? But, no, he was thrown backwards by the explosion too, in shock but alive.

If I were him, though, I wouldn't want to be.

Indeed, the commotion must have summoned the Careers back. They come running, Cato raving like a lunatic and placing his blame squarely on the boy from 3. Sheer emotion overrules all rational thought, as Cato snaps the boy's neck in less than an instant. There goes the cannon.

I don't still know how many of us live, but I know that there are not that many candidates whom Cato could logically deduce as being the culprit. He'll know this was my doing. I have to get out of here!

I lightly jog through the trees, putting as much distance between myself and my enemies as possible. I am just calming down and wondering what on earth is wrong with my left ear, when a cry clearly reverberates through the other.

"KATNISS! HELP!"

I run blindly through the trees, calling for Rue. Something went awry with the plan, I know it! Finally, I come upon the site of the third burn, the fire unlit - and Rue caught in a net. Using Clove's knife, I cut her free and gather her into my arms as a mother would her baby.

"Ssssh... sssssshhhh... it's OK..."

"Katniss!"

Something whistles towards us and I don't even think. I leap to the side and fire an arrow into the stomach of the boy from 1. He stumbles back one step in surprise before dropping to the ground. Upon hearing his cannon, I turn back to comfort Rue.

But she's staring at me in stunned silence, a spear impaled in her chest. She keels over and I catch her before she hits the earth.

"You're OK... you're OK..." I choke out through quickly-gathering tears, even though she's anything but.

"Did you blow up the food?" she whispers.

I nod. "Every bit of it."

"You have to _win_ ," her voice hissing with great intensity for one so small. "Will you sing?"

She knows she's dying. Worse, she knows I can do nothing to help her cling to life. So, all I can do is obey what will be her final wish, and sing the song I always used as a lullaby for my sister. Just after I reach the final chorus, her cannon sounds.

Racked with grief and guilt, I begin to adorn Rue's body in flowers. Once done, I turn my face skyward and give District 12's traditional three-fingered salute. Somehow, somewhere, a camera will pick up on it.

And I walk away.


	8. Chapter 8: Together Again

**Chapter 8: Together Again**

It takes me more than a day to get over Rue's death. Periodically, I just sit amongst the trees and cry. I don't even think about what would happen if another tribute crossed me in such a pathetic state, only that I would probably be an easy kill.

On what I judge to be the tenth, eleventh day of the Games (it's a rough guesstimate, I know, as I was unconscious for some of it), I hear announcer Claudius Templesmith's voice boom throughout the landscape.

"Attention, tributes, attention: there's been a slight... rule change. The Gamemakers have decreed that two Victors may be crowned if they originate from the same district. May the odds be ever in your favor."

"Peeta!" I instantly gasp. The rule change reinvigorates me with a new sense of purpose, as I now search frantically for my boyfriend.

Thank goodness I made my livelihood as a hunter. With my tracking skills honed over years of practice, I manage to unearth a trail of blood leading back towards where the Careers found me in the river days before. Sure enough, I reach the body of water and the rocky landscape surrounding it, but it is here the trail goes cold.

No matter what shape he's in, Peeta must be somewhere in this area.

All at once, something grabs at my ankle and I leap back in shock. Only to discover...

"Oh my gosh, Peeta!"

I forget that I should be mad at him, forget that I had declared our relationship dead - an extra casualty of this arena. Digging my boyfriend out from his camouflaged hiding place, I take him in my arms. I kiss his lips again and again, quickly running out of air, but I don't stop. Peeta manages to offer a weak greeting amidst my peppering him.

"Peeta, why don't you hold me?" I whimper, my euphoria at finding him alive momentarily clouding my judgement.

He chuckles. "I kinda can't, sweetheart."

"Oh!" I spring back and finally get a good look at him.

He looks worse - _far_ worse - than I envisioned or than Cato even alluded to. A huge gash runs high up his left leg, cutting through the pant fabric as though it is paper.

The healing lessons I learned from my mother quickly take over. Trying to remember what Rue did to heal the burn on my leg, I gather leaves and crush them in the river water to make the same kind of paste, which I then meticulously apply to Peeta's wound. Peeta just silently observes me.

"Gah! That stings!" he growls at one point. "It's bad, huh?"

"It's gonna be fine," I brush him away. I should not be so cavalier; he knows me well enough to know when I'm bullshitting.

"Katniss..."

"Shush."

"Katniss..."

"No!" I snap. "I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna do that!"

He stares at me for a moment before asking, "Why not?"

I am well aware of what he's really asking. He knows as well as I do that he betrayed me by teaming up with the Careers. He knows it will take a lot to return to what we had, and odds are we may never. He is wondering what _we_ are now.

I don't answer. I can't. So instead, I return to my work. When I finally succeed in getting Peeta to stand, I support him as he hobbles us away from the river.

We encounter no one as we return to the underbrush, and as night begins to fall, we discover a cool and damp cave that is well secluded. It will suit our purposes nicely. Until Peeta has recovered, we will hide here, maybe even outlast a tribute or two, if we're lucky.

Later that evening, a parachute from a sponsor comes. Peeta is elated, mentioning it's the first parachute he's ever received. I'm elated to think that it's medicine - until I realize it isn't that at all, only soup. Still, food is better than nothing. I give him a few initial spoonfuls.

"Thanks," he rasps. He sounds dehydrated. I hope the water supplies in the arena hold, or some canteens from a sponsor are on the way.

I shrug. "Well, you fed me once."

I had earlier found a sleeping bag in the backpack I plucked from the Bloodbath, so Peeta and I share this and our body heat for warmth.

Besides this, our temporary, self-imposed exile gives us plenty of time to talk.

"I never meant to betray you. In fact, I got in with Cato and the rest of the clown car because I thought I could lead them away from you. The fact that we ran into you after the fireballs was pure accident. I'm so sorry."

His eyes - eyes as blue as a summer sky - convey his sincerity, and despite some lingering bitterness, I believe him.

"I forgive you." And I kiss him, our first mutually consented kiss since before the Games. I giggle when we break apart.

Peeta smirks adorably. "What?"

"It's just I'd hardly refer to the Career pack as a 'clown car.'"

Peeta chuckles right along with me. "Well, except for maybe Cato, none of them were very bright. Glimmer practically needed a guide dog - no sense of direction at all!"

I burst out laughing and he laughs with me. For a moment, it feels just like old times. A sudden thought strikes me.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"... When did you first fall in love with me?"

Peeta takes his time in answering, but not out of any deception, no, just recollection.

"It was the first day of school," he begins. "You were wearing a little red dress, and your hair..." He smiles. "It was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."

"Your father?" I gasp. "Why?"

"He says to me, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.'"

I gape, and even find myself blushing a little. I can only imagine what my mother must be feeling, hearing this recounted on national television. "You're making that up!" I accuse, trying and failing to not sound amused.

"No, it's true. So I say, 'A coal miner? Why did she choose a coal miner if she could've had you?' And my father replied, 'Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.'"

Peeta's not wrong. I inherited my singing talents from my father. He was also the first person to teach me about the mockingjay's sweet song.

"Now, the singing bit becomes really important, because later that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song," Peeta continues. "Your hand shot right up in the air. You sat on a stool and sang it for us and every single bird fell silent outside the window."

"Oh, please!" I laugh.

"No, it happened. And right then I knew - like my father before me - I was a goner. After that... I watched you walk home every day. _Every day_ ," he emphasizes when I stare at him in surprise. I had no idea he noticed me for that long.

Then, without missing a beat, he turns it back on me. "So, sweetheart? When did you first fall in love with me?"

I gulp, my heart pounding. "When you saved my life," I practically whisper. "When you gave me the bread. When you... made sweet love to me under that willow tree."

Peeta's eyes darken and he nods.

"I tried to fight it, Peeta, but then when you offered to risk your family's livelihood for me... I couldn't take it anymore."

"Well," Peeta smiles. "You've got me, sweetheart. Besides, it's not like I have much competition here."

I decide to be brave, and take a deep breath. "You don't have any competition anywhere: not District 12, not in the arena, and especially not in my heart."

Like before, during our first night together in his room above the bakery, something shifts. Peeta is on me in the next second, kissing me, and I am kissing him back. The warm feeling bubbles up in me again, no longer a fire of rage but a fire of love.

This fire, the one that only Peeta can give me, endows me with new bravery. Before I know fully what I am doing, I push Peeta flat on his back and boldly move to straddle him. It's a little difficult due to the constrictions of the sleeping bag, but at least it and the night will conceal us and any indecency. Wait, what am I saying? This is not indecent! This is sacred - a sacred act between man and woman to show their love for one another.

"Katniss..." I silence Peeta's whimper with a finger to his lips.

"Ssssshhhhhh..." I brazenly roll my hips into his pelvis, to make it abundantly clear what I want. He smiles with joy. Softly, I peel my jacket and undershirt from my shoulders, exposing my bare back as I lie on top of him and kiss him.

Peeta is still too weak to really do anything, so it is I who strips him of his clothes. _I_ guide his manliness into my dripping wet vagina. _I_ bounce up and down on his penis so as to kindle the flame inside me, building it until it blazes out of control.

"Uhhhhhh... Ohhhhhhhhhhh... Mmmmmmmmmmm... Huhhhh... Peeta..." I moan, throwing my head back, my eyes bulging as they gasp for breath. "Oh my... ohhhhh my goodness... Peeta!"

His name comes out in a sigh, even as my orgasm explodes all around me. I sink my body onto his chest, and with a contented purr, I move no more.

* * *

It is Peeta's slick skin which first awakens me to a new day in our little cave. I stir against him with a smile. I know I am naked, sunlight from outside just managing to kiss the valley of my bare breasts.

My happiness does not stay for long, though, and I suddenly want to kill not a tribute, but Claudius Templesmith, as his sudden voice so audaciously interrupts us.

"Attention, tributes, attention: commencing at sunrise, there will be a Feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia. Each of you needs something - desperately. And we plan to be... generous hosts."

I reach the conclusion immediately. "Your medicine."

"You're not going to go," Peeta squashes my still-forming plan in the next instant. I know he harbors more concern over the threat of other tributes to me than even over his own health.

"Yeah? Well, you need it, and you can't walk. We barely got you here as it is." As a couple, we've bantered like this before, but the stakes have never, _never_ been as high as they are now.

"Katniss, you're not going to risk your life for me; I'm not gonna let you!" and he grabs at my bow to stop me from completing getting dressed.

"You would do it for me... wouldn't you?" my voice and gaze softening on the last two words.

Peeta just stares at me, baffled. "Why are you doing this?"

My gaze and resolve both harden, but they don't mask the tenderness I feel as I swoop down on my lover and kiss him. My message is silent but clear.

 _Because I love you._

When we break apart, Peeta beholds me with a new adoration. "Now there's no way I'm letting you go." His resolve is just as hard as mine, and there's no beating it.

"Peeta," I sigh.

"Please. Stay."

I now want to hit myself. Did I really have to make him beg? Not for sex, certainly, but... no, focus. This is one fight I cannot win... at least not yet. So I cede to my true love's wishes. For now. Silently, I curl up next to him.

* * *

Peeta's condition only gets worse as morning turns into afternoon. He begins to break out into a fever - a fever that I cannot treat with nature's gifts alone. Worse, he begins to eat less and less of the soup until I have to placate him with a kiss for every spoonful.

This isn't working. That medicine which I am sure will be waiting in the Cornucopia is the only thing that can save him. And I will not lose my sweet love after I've just gotten him back.

While Peeta takes an afternoon doze, I slip out of the cave and scavenge a short distance away until I find what I am looking for: berries. This particular kind contains a kind of syrup that, when mixed in water, can put a person to sleep. My mother has often used it on patients when Capitol anesthesia from the District 12 apothecary has run low. I mix the syrup in the water of a stream, then return to the cave and wake Peeta.

"I thought this might be a nice change from all the soup." I urge him on with a kiss, and he eventually begins to drink the sweetened water.

"It's sweet," he ponders. "Almost sugary."

"Yes, they're sugar berries," I lie, kissing him again to get him to drink more. He's almost had enough...

"No, not sugary, it tastes like... syrup. Syrup." His eyes widen.

I move fast, forcing his mouth closed so that he has no choice but to swallow. And there he goes, dragged under. But only for a little while. I'll hear about this later, I'm sure.

That is, if I can survive the Feast that awaits me.


	9. Chapter 9: A Girlfriend's Duty

**Chapter 9: A Girlfriend's Duty**

The sun is just beginning to rise by the time I reach the edge of the treeline just beyond the clearing that holds the Cornucopia. At what must be sunrise, a table suddenly rises out of the earth. On it lie four backpacks, each marked with a very significant number. _District_ numbers.

One on the far left is marked with a "2" - probably meant for Cato and Clove. The one farthest right is marked with a "12" - for me and Peeta. Between these lies a "5" backpack, for -

Foxface! Just as I begin to emerge from the edge of the clearing and make for the table, there she goes, right out of the mouth of the Cornucopia. In moments, she has seized her pack and is making a clean break for the woods. I know now that I have to get to Peeta's and my backpack before...

The table is feet from me, when a flash of black rounds the other side of the horn. A silver blade is thrown, which I barely manage to dodge, and I ready my bow. But I can't set it up in time; Clove does not let me. She bullrushes me, tackles me to the ground. Her knife from earlier is in my pocket where I cannot get to it quickly, especially in such a compromising position. My last line of defense is to bite, kick and shriek as we roll over and over the same patch of grass. God, we're such _girls_.

At last, we end up with Clove on top of me. All I've gotta say is, I like it a lot better when it is Peeta who's straddling me. The sadistic girl's knife is at my throat.

"What's in the backpack, Twelve? Medicine for your boyfriend?"

I am floored as to how she might know this, until I remember that her district partner is why my boyfriend needs the medicine in the first place.

"Oh, I see! You were gonna help him, right? Oh, that's sweet. Shame you'll end up just like your friend. What was her name? Rue?" She goads me even as I growl in rage and try to buck her off me. "Oh, yeah, we killed her. And now... we're gonna kill you." She traces my face with her knife.

But it turns out that's all she gets to do.

Clove's weight is suddenly, violently, removed from me. Next second, there's a bang which indicates something or someone has hit the Cornucopia. When I manage to raise my head, I realize why:

A hulking, black male has unexpectedly come to my rescue. Now it is Clove's turn to be pinned, this time up against the great metal horn.

My memory comes back to me. The fourth backpack on the table was marked with an "11." And since Rue is dead...

Her district partner, Thresh. I haven't seen him since before the Games, but his presence now informs me there are only six of us left in the arena.

And he is now interrogating Clove with the relentlessness of a Peacekeeper.

"You said you killed her?" he bellows.

"No!"

"I heard you!"

As all of this is going on, I think back to a comment Peeta made to me recounting his experiences with the Careers. Regarding Clove, he'd had this to say: _"She's a compulsive liar. Always makes herself out to be better than she actually is, even if she has to deny reality to do it."_

And that is exactly what's happened here. Clove bold-face lied to me when she said "we" (presumably meaning her and Cato) _'killed her.'_ She must suspect I see through this; that I know it was actually the boy from 1 who killed my friend.

Unfortunately for Clove, Thresh doesn't know that. Now caught in a trap largely of her own making, Clove begins to panic.

"Cato! CATO!"

"You said her name! YOU SAID HER NAME!"

I can't watch. Not as Thresh bashes Clove's brains out against the horn in a fit of rage that makes Cato's physical rantings seem benign. He slams her body against it again and again, until she finally drops into my line of vision, dead from blunt-force trauma.

All at once, Thresh rounds on me. He saved me from Clove, sure, but I don't know if I would have wanted to be killed by her earlier or by him now. Instead, however, he points a finger the size of a salami at me.

"Just this time, Twelve! For Rue."

And seizing both his and Cato's backpacks, he disappears into an unfamiliar part of the arena with only a single glance back.

I know Cato will be coming for Clove's body, so I waste no time grabbing my own pack still on the table and hightailing it out of there. As I run, I am able to process what I just endured.

Thresh actually saved my life. And in the bargain, he took out a significant opponent for me. Clearly, he took Clove's word to be truth even though it wasn't truth at all, and must have decided her death was of higher priority than mine.

But why would he do even this, though? Kill Clove, but then spare my life? Obviously, he heard Clove's whole yarn, including her reference to Rue as my 'friend'... yet he doesn't know the whole story. Of how Rue and I were allies and I saved her from the District 1 boy. I never got to give my side of it.

What is more, Thresh took Cato's backpack in addition to his own. Was this another blessing in disguise? Does Thresh figure that the contents of that backpack outweigh any desire by Cato to see me dead? Does he think he can lead Cato away from me, just as Peeta was trying to do with the whole Career pack from the start?

I'm beginning to think that there is an element of chance to the arena. Not a lot, mind you, but some. The boy from Nine being knifed instead of me. The girl from Eight and her fire being discovered instead of me in the tree. Marvel spearing Rue, but not me, before I killed him. And now, Clove's death. In these games of chance, I have always come out alive. I hope my streak holds.

* * *

By the time I return to the cave, Peeta is still asleep, but beginning to stir. I immediately open the backpack and retrieve the medicine, figure out how to administer it, and inject the substance into Peeta's leg. It's my last ounce of energy before I pass out from sheer exhaustion.

When I come to, Peeta is actually sitting up, eyeing me with a stern expression. Yet his eyes are twinkling.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Or should I say, afternoon."

I sit up. "You're better."

" _Much_ better. Whatever you shot me up with did the trick. By lunchtime, almost all the swelling in my leg was gone."

I smirk. "Told you it was worth it." A pause. "Do you forgive me for tricking you?"

"I'm getting around to it. But for future reference..." and here he finally breaks character. "Don't do something like that again."

I laugh, and even though Peeta claims to be reserving judgment, I can tell all is forgiven.

Once I find us a decent meal a short ways away, I tell Peeta all about what happened at the Feast. He seems just as baffled as to why Thresh would let me go, but does not bother to offer any theories. Mostly, he's just relieved that Clove is out of the way.

"We could go home, you know. Both of us, because of the rule change. We're the only district team left."

Peeta smiles a boyish smile. "We could go home." And we embrace.

* * *

The medicine helps Peeta make nearly a full recovery. He manages to walk again independently, though with a slight limp. As soon as he is able, we leave our cave sanctuary together for the first and ultimately last time. Peeta has gotten it in his mind that, since we are so close to the end, we can work together and hunt down our last competition one by one until we are the final two alive.

"Cato will be by the Cornucopia. He's not going to go someplace he doesn't know, or that doesn't give him some semblance of power. Even with all the supplies gone, the horn is pretty imposing," Peeta rationalizes, as we wade our way across a stream. "We know Thresh went off into that unknown part of the arena - I think it might be wheat fields. It's too dangerous to go in after him on his home turf; we'll have to draw him out."

"Foxface?"

At the mention of the girl from 5, Peeta throws up his hands. "Sweetheart, she could be anywhere!"

I laugh at his exasperation.


	10. Chapter 10: The Finale

**Chapter 10: The Finale**

We go exploring, probing mile by mile into wider and wider perimeters beyond our former home of the cave. But there are no signs of Cato, Foxface, or Thresh.

"Let's hunt," I suggest, readying my bow.

"Now? But I'm not that hungry," Peeta protests like a small child.

I am sure the audience in the Capitol is getting a kick out of that. This is the Hunger Games, after all. But I know better. His fever may have gone away thanks to the medicine, but his lack of appetite is taking its own time clearing out. I can't force-feed him with sweet talk and kisses forever. If Peeta doesn't want to starve to death, we'll have to win, and soon.

My boyfriend finally relents. "All right, I'll take the bow."

I stare at him, horrified. For a moment, I wonder if he would turn on me with it and kill me. But Peeta flashes a grin. "I'm just kidding. I'll go do some gathering."

Splitting up - even momentarily - turns out to be a nearly fatal mistake. I have just made a catch of squirrel when I hear a BOOM.

That was a cannon. Someone is dead. Oh no...

"PEETA!" I run as blindly through the trees as I did for Rue - so long, in fact, that I nearly jump out of my skin when I collide with another body.

It's Peeta. Despite his being very much alive, I burst into tears. "I heard the cannon..." Then I see what's in his hand and my crying turns angry. "THAT'S NIGHTLOCK, PEETA!" slapping away the berries that are a cousin of the sleeping ones I gave him. "You'd be dead in a minute! You scared me to death! Damn you..."

I melt into his arms, Peeta consoling me with "I'm sorry's" and "I didn't know's."

We are now down to four. One more tribute is dead. But if it wasn't Peeta and obviously wasn't me, then who _was_ it?

* * *

"I didn't know she was following me," Peeta admits honestly, as we stare almost sadly at the corpse of Foxface, her lips stained not with blood, but with berry juice. "I should have been more careful - on all counts."

I nod. "Yes, you should have. Obviously, she was tailing you and thought you might have something she could steal. Trouble for her is, she picked the wrong thing to swipe. She's very clever, Peeta. Or she was. Until you outfoxed her."

"And she was also probably our easiest target to take out, at least physically," Peeta huffs, stretching as he begins to pace, planning our next move. "Thresh and Cato will be much tougher nuts to break open." He pauses, then cracks a smile. "I guess it's too much to hope that they simultaneously destroy each other?"

I bite my lip, shaking my head. "If for some reason we don't win, Peeta... I hope Thresh does." Arena or not, I feel that I owe him for saving my life.

"Then let's hope Cato kills him, so we don't have to," Peeta replies grimly.

We continue our trek, maintaining a direction towards the Cornucopia even though it was never planned beforehand. But something is off. The sky is getting darker earlier. _Too_ early. Especially for the middle of summer. Peeta notices this as well.

"Why's it so dark all of a sudden?"

"Gamemakers probably want to end this just as much as we do," I guess bluntly.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" The male scream, followed by a cannon, nearly makes me jump into Peeta's arms. I don't need the sky to tell me who it was, for I have heard Cato scream, and it doesn't sound like that.

"What is it?" Peeta wonders.

I stare at him, my face weighed down by depressing emotions as I announce, "It's the finale."

And indeed it is. Mutated dogs that probably ensured Thresh's demise burst out of the underbrush behind us. My lover and I run for our lives, Peeta keeping surprisingly good pace with me despite his still-weakened leg. Before either of us know it, we have burst from the edge of the woods and are charging for the Cornucopia. Climbing it might be our only chance. I see no sign of Cato, our final enemy, but even if he does come, I hope we are ready for him.

Always the perfect gentleman, even under duress, Peeta gives me a boost up the horn first. He is partially through his ascent after me when the mutts reach us, biting and clawing at his weaker leg. I grab onto my boyfriend's arms and yank, dragging him the last several feet to the top and out of the cursed dogs' reach.

And we _still_ aren't done yet.

Cato comes out of seemingly nowhere, knocking me to the floor of the horn. Like with Clove, he gets up on top of me, only now he tries to choke me to death. In fact, he is bending me back towards the dogs' teeth that are just beyond our reach. Peeta bravely counter-attacks without mercy, tackling Cato and throwing him back and away from me. Even with my boyfriend's injury, I can't help but admire him as he manages to give Cato a pretty good pummeling. _He's so strong..._

Cato throws Peeta off and makes for me again, only to be intercepted again. This gives me enough time to get to my feet and ready an arrow.

I am glad I am poised and prepared to strike, for when I look up, Cato has Peeta in a chokehold. For the first time, I get a good look at the last of the Careers.

Firstly, he looks worse than I expected: split lip, with a trail of dried blood running from it. His hair looks disheveled. There are clear bags under his eyes.

Secondly, for someone who wants to be crowned Victor, Cato looks... resigned.

"Go on, sweet thing, shoot," he goads. "Then we both go down and you win."

No deal. If anyone is going down, it is Cato, and Cato only. But his egging me on gives me pause. If I do shoot him, he very well could drag my lover down with him...

"Go on," Cato pressures, as if he is begging. Then he says something rather shocking: "I'm dead anyway."

Cato's curtain call - if that's how we want to define it - now balloons into an exercise in theatre of the absurd. He even starts monologuing, laughing as he does so. But not at me. Nor at Peeta. At _himself_.

"I always was, right? I didn't know that till now. That's it, is that what they want? Huh?" And he screams this to the heavens, to the audience just beyond our sight that he knows is hanging on his every word. Because this is the end of the Hunger Games, and the audience expects a show.

I nearly drop my weapon. Never, in the history of this event, have I heard of a Career appearing to openly provoke the Capitol. Careers are supposed to love the Games; Hell, they think that killing other people's children actually _is_ a game.

Not Cato, though. At least not anymore. No doubt seeing my surprise at his likely deranged behavior, he lets out something between a "Huh?" and a chortle, a sick grin on his face. His grip on Peeta tightens; the blond monster seems to be remembering himself again.

"I could still do this... I could still do this..." but he seems to be talking himself into it more than me. "One more kill. It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district... Not that it matters."

As Cato waxes loquacious on topics bordering the philosophical, I notice Peeta tapping the hand that traps him with his index finger.

One last silent message. One last signal. _Shoot here_.

And I do. As soon as my arrow finds its mark, Peeta breaks free, and hurls Cato almost over his head. The Career bounces limb over limb off the edge of the Cornucopia to the waiting mutts below.

Peeta and I hold each other in a tight embrace, kiss, glance fearfully down every once in a while to check our progress on Cato's elongated, bloody end. When our subdued rival begins to literally plead for death, I can't take it anymore, and promptly fire an arrow into his temple. The cannon sounds, calling the mutts away and halting their plunder.

The sun now rises a few hours too early over the Cornucopia, and Peeta and I slide down the horn to safety. It's over. We have made history, going farther than any of Haymitch's protégés. For the first time in 24 years, District 12 is guaranteed a victor - two of them!

Then, I hear Templesmith's voice.

"Attention, tributes, attention: there's been a slight... rule change. The previous rule change, claiming that two tributes from the same district could win has been... revoked. Only one Victor may be crowned. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

I see everything clearly now. They never intended for two tributes to win. They only twisted it to go for broke, gamble for the most epic ending in Hunger Games history. And like fools, Peeta and I bought into it.

"Go ahead." I turn to see Peeta facing me, a sad smile on his face and with no weapon in his hand. "One of us has to die. They have to have their Victor."

Can I do it? Kill my love? My Peeta? No, I will die first! And so would he, if our roles were switched.

This, and Peeta's comment, gives me an idea. My grief turns to rage - rage at the Capitol, rage at the Games. I throw down my bow. "No. They don't. Why should they?" The last comes out almost melodramatically.

Remembering how I kept the Nightlock berries, in the hope that they might be useful against Cato later, I pour some into Peeta's hand, then fill my own.

He stares. "Together?"

I nod. "Together."

He kisses me, his smile tender. "One."

"Two," I follow.

"Three," we echo.

"Stop! STOP!" Templesmith sounds unusually panicked. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners of the 74th Annual Hunger Games."

Dropping the berries, Peeta and I embrace and kiss. We don't stop until the hovercraft comes to pick us up.


	11. Chapter 11: Do You Know the Danger?

**Chapter 11: Do You Know the Danger?**

Much to my chagrin, Peeta and I are separated almost immediately after we board the plane. Doctors swarm him to save his injured leg, to save him. At least that's what they better be doing. If they try to kill him to ensure one Victor...

While I am forbidden from seeing Peeta for several days, I am allowed to see Cinna, Effie and finally, Haymitch.

But unlike my previous visitors, the drunk does not seem entirely pleased that I came back alive.

"You're in trouble, you know," he tells me, right out of the gates without so much as a 'Congratulations' or a 'Good Job.'

"What, because I didn't play their stupid game all the way to the end? Well, sorry to disappoint them, but I..."

"Katniss! This is serious. Not just for you. They don't take these things lightly."

I can see what he means. I showed them up. So did Peeta. The Capitol made us look like fools, so we made them look like fools right back.

Haymitch gives me instructions intensely, making it clear that this is literally a matter of life and death, though for whom he doesn't say.

"You have to tell Caesar at the interview that you were so in love with Peeta, you weren't responsible for your actions."

"But I _am_ in love with him." If he had died...

"Then milk that for all it's worth, sweetheart. Milk it till the cow is empty."

* * *

The interview with Caesar kicks off with me finally - _finally_ \- seeing Peeta. He looks so young again, so handsome in his suit. I leap into his arms, feel his laughter against my body before I feel his lips on mine.

I wish we could communicate just as silently and just as effectively during public displays of affection as we do when in control of ourselves. Still, I pour everything I can't say into the kiss. _Do you know? Do you know how much danger we're in?_ Somehow I bet Peeta does - he is sharp as a whip. And a ham of an actor too, for he milks it just as much as Haymitch told me to. He even pushes Caesar aside when the host tries to interrupt us. The audience nearly goes off its rocker.

At last, Caesar regains control of his studio and the interview begins. Whether deliberate or not, the questions seem tailored for me to answer about my love for Peeta, and I do so readily. Nothing Caesar throws my way seems to faze me, until he asks:

"So, Peeta: how are you getting on with your new leg?"

I shift in my boyfriend's embrace on the love seat, confused. "What does he mean? What...?"

Peeta lifts his pant seam to reveal what looks like a perfectly ordinary leg. "Go ahead, touch," he encourages with a bashful smile. "I don't mind."

I obey. But it's not warm skin I feel against my hand.

It's cool metal.

I let out a wail of anguish and bury my head in Peeta's shirtfront. They amputated his leg. I thought I had managed to save him, but I failed. I did not save _all_ of him. Worse still, I have the strangest sense of foreboding that this is more than just a tragic concession. This is a warning shot.

 _Keep causing trouble and we'll take_ _all_ _of him away..._

Meanwhile, Caesar is trying and failing to coax me out of Peeta's shirt. "Katniss, honey, calm down... I know you're upset... come on out of there..."

"No... No!" I whimper.

"It's all right, Caesar, she's just a little in shock, is all," Peeta covers for me beautifully. Even though it's true. I _am_ in shock.

It only gets worse as we are made to watch a recap of our Games, every kill over an apparent 18 days condensed into a 3-hour marathon. By the time President Snow places the Victory Crowns on our heads, I just want to go home.

My wish is granted soon enough, as Peeta, myself and company are escorted to the train, now bound for District 12 and home.

* * *

The train ride back is of a decent length, which gives Peeta and me plenty of time to catch up. He reassures me that the Capitol doctors were not secretly monsters working to undermine his life; he even demonstrates how well he can walk on his new leg. The limp from the arena is gone.

We cuddle and kiss, eat dinner with Effie and Haymitch before going to my room and having sex. Then we cuddle and kiss some more.

But all the while, I have one thought - a memory, actually - tugging at my mind. A memory from our last night in the arena, facing down Cato as he delivered his final soliloquy.

 _"I'm dead anyway... I always was, right? I didn't know that till now... Not that it matters... Is that what they want?"_

What did he mean by all of that? When I come to something of an answer, I confide it to Peeta.

"Darling, do you think Cato knew the deck was stacked against him? Or at least thought it? Due to what you said in your first interview?"

Peeta regards me quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "Whatever do you mean, my love?"

"I mean, think about it: you declaring your love for me would have scooped up sponsors, thereby cutting Cato - or any other tribute - off from their cash flow."

Peeta looks deep in thought. A bemused smile plays at his lips. "Huh. It's an interesting theory. If that is what happened, it was never my intention. I mean, I was hoping to gain sympathetic sponsors, but not at the expense of the other tributes. As far as Cato suspecting that near the end..." He shrugs, his eyes almost sad. "We may never know, sweetheart."

* * *

Peeta and I are mobbed as soon as our train pulls into the District 12 station. We leave the train holding hands, forgetting that our relationship was not always public.

Both our mothers soon remind us of this, though.

Between the two of them, and as expected, the Baker's wife takes it the worst. "Sleeping with a Seam slut behind my back, Peeta Joseph Mellark! I have never heard of anything so stupid in my life..." Her verbal rants which border almost on abuse leave me shellshocked, and I am amazed at Peeta's ability to basically tune her out.

"Don't take it personally; she's rude to everyone - even Dad," he whispers to me under his breath.

I smile. It's gone in the next second, however, as my Mother puts in her two cents. She eyes Peeta's and my joined fingers with a sharp frown, hands on her hips.

"Katniss Sierra Everdeen, is there something you want to tell me?"

I open my mouth to speak, but I am not allowed to get a word in edgewise, for Mother continues on.

"Your cousins and I got quite the shock when we saw you get... involved with this boy on TV. I had to have a long talk with your sister to get the proper story."

First, I see she has gestured towards the Hawthornes in reference to the word _'cousins'_ and it takes all my willpower not to act confused and just play along for the cameras. Remembering the rest of my mother's sentence, I glower at Prim, though my heart really isn't in it. It plays well for the Capitol audience, though.

"Peeta," my mother's attention turning to him. "At sixteen, Katniss is far too young to have a boyfriend..."

Peeta blushes red as a beet, while laughter and catcalls split the air.

"Oooooooohhhhh..."

"Somebody's in trouble..."

"BUT," Mother emphasizes to regain her stage. "As my eldest seems very... attached to you, keeping you apart probably won't do any good."

She doesn't voice the real reason, that the Capitol almost certainly won't _allow_ her to keep us apart.

"Therefore, you both may see one another but under very specific ground rules. Peeta's mother will have input."

Well, that doesn't sound good. Peeta merely clears his throat.

"I will treat your daughter's mind, heart, soul and... body... with the upmost reverence, Mrs. Everdeen. On my honor."

For some reason, Haymitch thinks this is the perfect time to weigh in. "Don't say it like _that_ , boy; it'll just make her hate you more..."

"You hush up!" my mother snaps, wagging a finger in the old drunk's face. Haymitch looks utterly speechless for the first time since I've known him, and the whole District gets a great laugh at his expense. Even Peeta and I, despite the new and more public home life that surely awaits us, have to giggle.


	12. Chapter 12: Secret Wedding

**Chapter 12: Secret Wedding**

My mother turns out to be as good as her word. Once the Capitol cameras are gone, the chances I get to see Peeta are significantly restricted.

Even though we now live across the street from each other in Victor's Village, neither Peeta nor myself can visit without the accompaniment of a chaperone. We are not allowed to be left in a room alone. Hand holding, hugs and light kisses are permitted, but that's about it in terms of physical contact. My mother is firm while also trying to be somewhat fair about it, even if I think she is failing on the 'fair' part. From what Peeta tells me, his mother acts like a tyrant.

The Capitol is no help, either. As the weeks drag into months, they return periodically to District 12 to update their citizens on our love life. At first, the paparazzi serve as a convenient distraction that allows Peeta and I to make a clean break from our parents, before we then slip away from all prying eyes altogether, the Capitol included.

But then, the media starts talking about a wedding.

Through the brand-new television now in our house, I learn that my expected marriage to Peeta has ballooned into a major media extravaganza. My mother, as can be imagined, does not approve, but her complaints of how I am not yet seventeen fall on deaf ears. Caesar is busy drawing up a hypothetical guest list, and rumor has it the President himself is crafting an address for the reception. Even Cinna is in on the act, though with the assignment to design my bridal gown, so I have to at least forgive him for this. I have always loved his work as a stylist and him as a person. Besides, he probably didn't have any say in the matter anyhow.

Still, the various degrees of expectation over what Peeta and I should or should not be doing as a couple gets to be too stifling for either of us to handle. I, for one, feel like a caged bird. Even Peeta's unusually high tolerance for patience is beginning to crack.

One of the few moments of relief we have is, surprisingly, when we are with Haymitch. Not long after our return from the Games, our mentor got the idea that we Victors gather for dinner at his place once a week. It was probably just an elaborate scheme to get us - his protégés - out from under our parents' noses, as I know Haymitch has never been particularly eager to attend social events unless forced to (like the Games), much less host one of his own. He somehow managed to convince our mothers that he would act as our chaperone during these functions, and they must have figured that - drunk or not - he could be trusted.

Ha! They should have known better that Haymitch has no intention of doing their dirty work for them.

Weekly dinners soon turn into sleepovers. Peeta and I are allowed to be alone together up in Haymitch's spare bedroom in exchange for helping him clean the dishes. And sometimes his laundry. Oh, and taking out the trash. While this might seem like our mentor is taking advantage of us, just to be with my boyfriend privately, if only for one night, is in my view a fair trade. Haymitch also goes above and beyond to explain away these nightly trysts by coming up with an intricate ruse to fool our mothers. He actually buys a pull-out couch and manipulates it to look like I have slept in it. He then further musses up the spare bed upstairs for Peeta. For someone who is not always in control of his faculties, the fake-out works like a charm. When I ask Haymitch how he got so good at fooling people, his answer is revealing:

"I know what it's like to be under a microscope. First few years after I won, the Capitol media would bother me and I would actually feign withdrawal just to scare them away."

Even if our pow-wows with Haymitch are a reprieve, I know they are not sustainable in the long term. What if Peeta and I want to have sex while we lie together in the spare bed upstairs? Mother and Prim might hear us just next door.

So it is one night, after dinner, that Peeta finally breaks. "This is ridiculous. Let's just get married, and get married our way."

I stare at him, and then nearly drop the plate I am washing as Peeta gets down on one knee and pulls out a ring.

"Katniss Sierra Everdeen, will you marry me?"

Speechless, I look over to Haymitch, who just nods with a tight smile of approval on his face.

I say yes.

* * *

I had never planned to marry when I was younger, so I never gave much thought or imagination to my wedding, the way some other girls do. Even so, I would never - in my wildest dreams - have imagined that I would only have a drunken Hunger Games Victor as a witness. And yet I am here, and I figure there is no better place to marry Peeta than in woods not unlike the ones where we strengthened our bonds of love.

Besides serving as sole witness, the Best Man, and father of the bride all in one, Haymitch managed to talk a District 12 holy man into performing the ceremony and swearing him to secrecy. I don't know how the old drunk managed to pull that off; maybe he bribed the priest with wine, to use in Communion or something.

The Holy Man blesses us, and for a moment, I wonder if Peeta and I are doing the right thing. Is it just my imagination, or does his metal foot feel cool against my leg as we play footsie? When the Holy Man pronounces us husband and wife, I take a deep breath. _This is what we have to do. We'll make it work. Somehow._

Then, Peeta bends and kisses me, and I have no more doubts. There is only Peeta, and the scent of the dying primroses in the forest around us.

* * *

In the weeks following our wedding, our mothers' rules regarding our courtship-that-really-is-no-longer-a-courtship relax slightly. The man who is now my husband and I are allowed to take walks together through the district alone. It is only in these moments, and our dinners with Haymitch, that Peeta and I wear our wedding rings. Even on the walks, though, we always hold our hands tightly in such a way that the golden bands are concealed. If someone other than Haymitch caught sight of them... I shudder to think what would happen.

So it is one day that Peeta and I return to my house after a nice stroll through the meadow. My mother and Prim greet us.

"Did you have a good walk, dear?" Mother asks.

"We have visitors," Prim cuts in, her expression grim, but her underlying message is clear: _Keep your mouth shut_.

Then a Capitol attendant suddenly appears in the doorway leading to our living room. "Mr. Mellark and Ms. Everdeen. This way please. The President is expecting you."

 _The President?_ I think in disbelief. I look over to my husband, and make darn sure he does not let go of my hand. We follow the Capitol attendant. Without breaking our contact, we manage to slip our wedding rings off of each other's fingers and clutch them in our fists. We finally part when we are made to enter a room that serves as my mother's office, single-file.

A man is sitting at her desk, his back to us. He raises one finger as if to say, _Give me a moment._ Then the chair swivels around and I find myself face to face with the the President of Panem.

At first glance, Coriolanus Snow reminds me of that jolly old saint who sometimes presents Merchant children with gifts in late winter. Except the President looks anything but jolly, and probably prefers dolling out punishment more than gifts.

"President Snow," I get out, my throat tight. "What an honor."

"Please, have a seat, Ms. Everdeen," the President gestures.

I have to keep from bristling at the increasingly foreign sound of my maiden name, as I take a seat opposite him. Peeta remains standing, until the President indicates that he should sit as well.

"I have a problem with you, my two Victors. A problem that started the moment you pulled out those poisonous berries in the arena. Before I proceed further, though, I want us all to come to an understanding not to lie to each other."

"I think that would be best, Mr. President," I agree.

"You both may think what you did was out of love. And you certainly played Seneca Crane like a fiddle. If he'd had any nerve about him, he would have blown you to bits right then and there. Can you guess where he is?"

The last little bit of that is reserved only for me, which makes me figure that I know which of us Snow would have liked to see die. Me.

"Unfortunately, there was no choice but for us to play out your little 'scenario'," Snow continues. "But not everyone in the Districts or the Capitol thought it was love; they thought it was rebellion. And if a little district like 12, of all places, can defy the Capitol, who's to say others can't do so? What is to prevent, say... an uprising?" He pauses. "Tell me, when were you going to inform the rest of us that your lovey-dovey routine was all an act?"

"It's not an act..." I begin.

"Don't lie!" he barks, before regaining his composure. "You promised."

 _But I'm not lying_ , I think. _And neither is Peeta. Where is Snow getting all this?_

"Right now, Mr. Mellark, Ms. Everdeen, you have lit a spark that - if left unattended - could consume all of Panem. Neither of you can even imagine what would happen then."

"How should we imagine it?" I prod, trying not to sound challenging.

"I want you to imagine thousands upon thousands of your people dead," the President almost spits. "Your loved ones - gone. District 12 reduced to ash, as if it had never existed."

"With all due respect, Mr. President," Peeta pipes up for the first time. "Your demeanor at the moment does not appear 'presidential.'"

I want to hit my husband, yet kiss him at the same time. Calling out the President on behavior not worthy of his office is by far the riskiest move I have ever seen someone do. Still, I have to admire my husband for this. Peeta is a lot of things, but he is nobody's fool. He knows the President of our country is literally threatening us.

"What can we do?" I ask, trying to clear the tension.

"On the Victory Tour, I want you both to smile. Kiss for the cameras. Be in love, just as you were."

"Just as we _are_ , Mr. President," Peeta interrupts, his voice steely.

There is a prolonged silence as Snow tries to stare down Peeta, but the younger man does not flinch. Indeed, President and Victor seem to sizing each other up. My heart pounds as I fear what might happen to my husband if he pushes too far. He has danced close to the line of rebellion, treason - and to the President's face! - but if he crosses over that line...

The President finally stands. "So, we all have an understanding."

"Transparent, sir," I get out.

He has barely left the study before I fall into Peeta's arms.

* * *

The Victory Tour starts off well, with Peeta and I kissing for the camera as we embark from Twelve.

But then, we hit a proverbial bump in the road.

At our very first stop, District 11, Effie presents us with cue cards that detail what we each should say. As we stand on our neighbor's Justice Building and face the families of Thresh and Rue, however, we are both moved to speak out of turn. Peeta ignores the cue cards and eloquently improvises, concluding with a promise to give one month of our winnings to the tributes' families ever year for the rest of our natural lives. Though I was originally going to let my husband do most, if not all, of the talking, I am moved to give an emotional eulogy to both Thresh and Rue.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

An old man gives District 12's three-fingered salute. We are hustled into the Justice Building, but not before I see Peacekeepers seize the poor fellow and shoot him in the head. I nearly go ballistic right then and there, but Haymitch grabs both me and Peeta and leads us up into the attic of the Justice Building. I don't know how my mentor knows where to go, except that he may have been up here before, on his own Victory Tour.

Haymitch lets it be known that he is thoroughly pissed off with us. To calm him down, Peeta and I have no choice but to reveal our meeting with Snow. I weep like a scared little girl, begging my mentor, "Haymitch, please, please, just help us get through this trip."

"Whoa, whoa, sweetheart, wake up!" Haymitch counters, snapping his fingers. "This trip doesn't end when you get back home! You _never_ get off this train!" He points at both of us. "You two are mentors now. Your job is to be a distraction so people forget what the real problems are. Because at the end of the day, you have to ask yourselves, 'What about them? Who protects them?'" He gestures out the tinted window, through which we can see white-armored guards dragging the old man's body away.

"So what do we do?" Peeta asks, his voice displaying a deepness that indicates when he has gotten serious about something.

"You're going to do what Snow said. You're going to read the cards that Effie gives you. And you're gonna live happily ever after. You think you can do that?" Haymitch softens finally and takes me in his arms, like a father would his daughter.

"We're gonna be OK. All three of us. I promise."

* * *

For the rest of the Tour, Peeta and I resolutely stick to the script. But even when on our best behavior, the sweep through the Districts seems to go from bad to worse.

The crowds are rowdier. More people give the three-fingered salute and are led away by Peacekeepers. Others scream and call out their opinions. In District 8, a little girl who presents me flowers vows to volunteer one day, "just like you did." I am taken aback at how someone could be inspired by me that much.

Unlike in 11, however, Haymitch understands that what is happening now is neither Peeta's nor my doing and therefore, not our fault. Indeed, events seem completely beyond our control.

By the time our Tour concludes with a blowout party in the Capitol - at the Presidential Palace no less - Peeta and I are at a loss as to what else we can possibly do. I conclude that we may not have failed, at least not intentionally, but we did not exactly succeed either. My conclusion appears to be confirmed as President Snow only has eyes for me while he makes a special toast to celebrate Peeta's and my engagement. That was a ploy which Peeta came up with after our disastrous visit to 11, thinking it is exactly what Haymitch would want as a 'distraction.' Considering we have already been married for several months, it would be hilarious if I didn't suspect our lives are on the line.

My sense of foreboding only grows as I watch the President sip wine as red as blood.


	13. Chapter 13: Lives Stolen Again

**Chapter 13: Lives Stolen Again**

Events mercifully die down after the Victory Tour. I am content to be left alone with my loved ones, and even naively begin to hope that the worst is now behind me.

Regular visits to the toilet for the purpose of throwing up soon dispel that quaint notion.

As a Healer, my mother makes a point to keep a stock of pregnancy tests, but at this moment, she has run out. She would have to buy more from the apothecary shop - a business that was once run by my late grandparents. And neither Peeta nor myself could just waltz in there and buy one; suspicion would run rampant immediately.

I have no other choice. Claiming my mother needs it for a patient, I ask Haymitch to shoplift one pregnancy test from the apothecary store. I don't know if he believes my story, but thankfully, he does not ask questions. My mentor then proceeds to burst into the apothecary shop entirely drunk and cause a commotion, knocking over shelves and even picking a fight with a customer. The Peacekeepers are called, but not before the shop is wrecked and Haymitch has pocketed one pregnancy test from the mess, which he then smuggles over to me.

Locking myself in my bathroom alone, I pee on the stick and then wait five minutes. When I check the results, the bottom nearly falls out from under me:

I am pregnant with Peeta's child. A baby girl, in fact.

I think back, wondering when I could have possibly conceived a child. The most likely answer is while on the Victory Tour, as making love with my husband was one of the few ways I managed to keep my wits about me. And there were no parents constricting our movements; Haymitch doesn't give a shit what Peeta and I do in the bedroom.

Oh my God. Peeta... What will I tell him? He's the father, he has a right to know. Yet I hesitate. If I tell Peeta, I know he would not purposefully reveal such a secret... but he would undeniably be happy. If his mood changed or he started acting differently around me or others due to the pregnancy, someone might reach the same conclusion and alert our mothers, the media, President Snow -

That's the other thing. The President is still breathing down our necks, keeping the planning of our Capitol wedding in the limelight. Why, I don't know, only I do know he must have something planned. Something dangerous. And after Peeta challenged him...

After weighing all the possibilities, I come to a painful decision: I will hide the news of the baby growing inside me from Peeta. For his own safety.

* * *

Spring is beginning to bloom when it is announced that there will be mandatory Capitol programming for the following Friday evening. Prim is bursting with excitement, as she figures it must be the announcement on my wedding dress.

When crafting my bridal gown, Cinna had come up with several designs, so the Capitol had devised a contest in which its citizens could vote for their favorite dress. Sure enough, the winner out of 6 possibilities is announced by Caesar Flickerman. Then, he says something enticing just before the commercial break:

"And when we come back, folks, we will have an announcement on the theme of the 3rd Quarter Quell, or 75th Hunger Games! Stay tuned."

"What will they do?" Prim turns to my mother. "It isn't for a few months yet."

My mother gets a faraway look in her eyes, as if she's remembering something. "It must be the Reading of the Card."

I have never been alive for a Quarter Quell - a special edition of the Hunger Games that takes place every 25 years to commemorate the anniversary of the Dark Days. But, we were taught about them in Games History class in school, learning that a new arena twist is introduced for each one. Of the two that have occurred, we always devoted special attention to the Second Quarter Quell in class, as that was the year our very own Haymitch Abernathy won the crown.

When programming resumes, the cameras reveal President Snow at a podium. He begins by recalling the Dark Days, and then the twists for the two previous Quells.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because it was their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold a special election, and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

I wonder what that would have been like. Electing the kids who had to go to their death. It is worse, I think, to be betrayed by your own neighbors than subjected to the whimsical fancies of the Reaping Ball.

"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for every Capitol citizen, the districts were required to send twice as many tributes."

I instantly imagine facing a field of forty-seven instead of twenty-three. No way I would have won with those odds. Or Peeta. No way. But Haymitch did. How in the hell did he do that?

"And now we honor our Third Quarter Quell," the President announces. He procures a envelope from a small box that a boy presents to him. Lifting the flap, he reads the card: "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of Victors."

My mother and sister let out blood-curdling wails that I barely hear. I feel as though I am drowning, for now I know.

My unborn baby will never see the light of day. Because her mother is going back into the arena.

* * *

In my stupor, I don't know how I retain enough sense of direction or decision to head straight for Haymitch's house. But I do. When I burst in without even knocking, I notice that his place looks as though a bomb has gone off in it. Chairs are overturned, shards of glass from likely broken beer bottles litter the floor. His TV is crackling and sputtering with electricity, dripping wet from a substance I can only imagine is booze.

Haymitch himself is face-down at his kitchen table in a kneeling position - a bottle of beer in one hand, the knife that he sleeps with in the other. When his eyes raise to mine, I can see they are bloodshot. How strange. I never took Haymitch to be the crying type.

"Ah, there she is, all tuckered out! Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? Realized you won't be going in alone? And now you're here to ask me..." He trails off, hoping I will pick up the answer, but I remain silent. So he just slurs on.

"I admit it was much easier for the boy. He was here before the godforsaken anthem had even stopped playing - begging me for another round in hell!"

I could have called it. Peeta only ever thinks about others; his own well-being is always the last thing on his mind. And since his wife is going into the arena... I don't know why seeing Haymitch attest to my husband's generosity makes me angry, but it does.

"You should be thankful!" I bark at him. "Thankful that the Capitol didn't take away his life and that he is giving you yours!"

I wonder if I am fuming because I am jealous. That I am wishing for Peeta to live, even if it possibly means Haymitch's death. No. I don't. Haymitch is not the easiest person to deal with, but he's my family now. He's the closest thing I have to a father.

"Is that why you're here, sweetheart? To go on a guilt trip?" Haymitch growls.

"I came for a drink," I quickly deflect, because I don't want to prove him right.

The drunk slumps slightly before pushing his bottle - apparently just opened, as it's still full - across the table to me. "Help yourself."

The liquor burns my throat and I gag on the stuff initially. I can't believe Haymitch manages to imbibe this, bottle after bottle, day after day.

"It's an acquired taste," Haymitch mumbles gloomily, and the way he says it makes it sound like the tagline from a TV commercial.

He's right, of course. After I persevere through a few more gulps, the stuff actually begins to taste sweet. I feel lightheaded.

"I want you to promise me something," I get out, my tongue feeling more loose than it normally is. "This time, we do whatever it takes to keep Peeta alive."

Haymitch frowns, even as it's taking all his resources to maintain eye contact with me. "This time...?"

"Don't pretend you didn't choose to save me last year. Peeta told me he didn't get one goddamn parachute before I found him. Well, now you've gotta earn your keep. Keep him alive."

Haymitch nods. "OK, if... his name is called at the Reaping, I'll... volunteer for him. Don't think it would be some big sacrifice for me; your husband is a good person. Better than either of us. BUT, if my name is called first and he volunteers, there is nothing I can do."

I nod. "Thank you, Haymitch."

It's the last thing I get out before my head hits the table.

* * *

Haymitch is still out across the table from me when I wake the next morning. The sky is just beginning to lighten. I rise and try to at least prepare both of us a decent breakfast, but my head is throbbing too much for me to be of any use. Peeta saves us when he arrives later in the morning, bearing gifts of bread and cheese buns.

After eating, I decide I am at least in control of myself enough to try and clean Haymitch's house up. I can see right away that the TV has short circuited, damaged beyond repair. I throw it onto the back porch using all of my strength. I then sweep the floor and clear up any trash.

When the living room looks at least presentable, I take a break by sitting at the table and consoling Haymitch. I am still doing this when my husband comes in with a box full of empty beer bottles.

"There. It's done," he announces, grandly depositing the box in front of Haymitch and I.

Our mentor's eyes attempt to zero in on the box, to little avail. "What is?" he mumbles.

"I poured all the liquor down the drain," Peeta informs him.

THAT gets the old drunk's attention. He suddenly takes on an engaged countenance that would make anyone believe he isn't drunk at all, pawing desperately through the box. " _You what?!_ "

I have no idea why Peeta would do this. Personally, I feel that now is not the time to force Haymitch into rehab; we have other things to worry about. "He'll just buy more," I tell Peeta, trying to make him understand the futility of his efforts, however well-meaning.

"No he won't" Peeta says, his gaze fixed on Haymitch. "I told Ripper I'd turn her into the stocks the second she sold to you - _either_ of you" and his piercing blue eyes pivot over to me.

"What?" I splutter in indignant fury at my husband. "Peeta, last night's the first time I've touched alcohol in _months_!"

"Obviously - just look at the shape you're in," he shoots back.

"What, pray tell, is the point of all this?" Haymitch snarls.

"The point is that we are going to train for these Games. No more alcohol, no more guilty pleasures. We are going to start eating better and getting exercise. We need to act like Careers. Because one of us three is going to be Victor - _again_ \- whether you two like it or not!" Peeta storms out after his angry tirade, slamming the door behind him.

"I don't like self-righteous people, even when I'm married to one," I grumble.

Haymitch shrugs. "What's there to like?" and he begins to try and find any drop of booze left in the bottles. He won't, though; Peeta washed them clean.

"You and me. That's who he plans on coming home. You mentor, I win."

Haymitch snorts. "Well, then the joke's on your hubby."

* * *

The night is still as I slumber in dreamland. Following Peeta's tour de force, I briefly returned to my house and indulged myself in consolation on the part of my mother and sister. The emotions became too much, however, so I returned to what has become my guest room in Haymitch's place, only to find Peeta already in bed.

Now, I dream of him, of him making love to me in a beautiful meadow somewhere. I feel him touch a growing bump on my abdomen, smiling at it, kissing it. Listening for the movement of our baby just within...

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

All at once, the scene is sucked into oblivion, as I am awakened by the loudest and sharpest sound I have ever heard. I scream further when I see my husband's face inches from mine, and - right next to my ear - something that looks like an air horn.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart!" Peeta grins almost insanely, and he suddenly kisses me hard on my lips. I let loose a squeal of outrage. What does he mean by rousing me so rudely from what has become our marriage bed? But he breaks apart quickly before I can do something like punch him. "Time to get moving!" He bounds out the door.

I follow grouchily. _Moving? Moving for what? What time is it?_ By the time I get downstairs, I see that Haymitch has suffered a similar awakening, though by cold water and not by going deaf.

"Come on, both of you, outside!" Peeta chirps. Haymitch and I just look at each other and sleepily stagger after my husband onto the front stoop. That's when I notice -

"OK, boy, what fresh hell is this?!" Haymitch practically roars. "It's still dark out!"

And indeed it is; in fact, the moon is still in the sky. Squinting, I can just make out the hands on the clock, which rests just above the fountain marking the center of Victor's Village. 4 A.M.

4 A.M.? 4 A.M.?!

"Let's clear something up right now: Yes, it is 4:00 in the morning. No, I do not care," Peeta announces to us. "This is not a democracy. This is a dictatorship. I am the law. And I say that every morning, we will rise at this time and run a mile. If you complain, you run a mile. If you stop mid-way through, you run a mile. If you have to go to the bathroom, well, you go, presumably in your pants... and _then_ you run a mile! Regardless, you are still running a mile that will begin our daily exercise regimen from now until the Reaping. So, let's get that blood flowing!"

And with that, my husband promptly slaps me on my ass before breaking into a jog. I yelp in surprise before grudgingly following him, Haymitch half-running, half-staggering behind me.

Thus begins our training, every day, for the Quell. The mile-run through the district serves as a good way to wake us up and get our limbs loose. By the time we return to Victor's Village, the sun is usually just beginning to peek over the horizon, at which time Peeta guides us through exercises of strength.

"Come on, sweetheart! Move those abs! I know _damn_ well your thighs are way stronger than that!" Peeta shouts what he must think is encouragement whereas anyone else would think it's abuse. I scowl at his somewhat crass allusion to our sex life as I do yet another sit-up, rising myself higher so as to gain a peck on the lips from Peeta, who anchors my feet to the ground.

Peeta is not always our self-appointed coach, however. Once we fall into a routine, he cedes some control over to Haymitch and me. The old drunk, for example, is our instructor for knife-throwing and other forms of hand-to-hand combat.

"That's it, Peeta; go full in on the attack! Now block!" Haymitch encourages, as he and my husband duel with small swords.

When it comes to archery, hunting and survival skills, I am the expert. I show the men how to skin game, shoot, and even how to climb trees. On some hunting tasks, I will bring in Gale Hawthorne as my 'Teaching Assistant.' At least, that's the title Haymitch gives to him. Much to my hunting buddy's chagrin, it sticks.

* * *

I am able to regulate my breathing and strides much better now, as I follow my husband on the stretch for home. I can almost keep pace with him. Haymitch is just behind me.

After years of abuse, our mentor's body initially resisted improvement. Our runs used to wind him, but now he is at least able to stick close to me instead of being left far behind in town like before.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh... I don't know, but it's been said -" Peeta calls in a sing-song voice.

"I don't know, but it's been said -" Haymitch and I echo.

"Careers have no brains in their heads!" he finishes.

"Careers have no brains in their heads!"

"Sound off!"

"It's been said!"

"Sound off!"

"In their heads!"

"Careers - have - no - brains - in - in - their heads!" We finish in rhythm as we reach Haymitch's house.

"16:35 - personal best! Great job, great job!" Peeta crows, high-fiving Haymitch and giving me a deep kiss.

Our drunken mentor smirks. "As much as I enjoyed the sing-along, Peeta, not all Careers are like that. Come on, I'll show you."

He leads us into his house, where we come upon a package just inside the entryway. The mail has the Capitol's insignia on it.

"Ah, excellent! It came! I knew that Trinket gal was good for something!" Haymitch beckons to my husband. "Peeta, get my knife from the counter, would you?"

The younger man obeys as Haymitch lifts the heavy box onto his kitchen table with little effort. I have to admire his strength. It was still quite potent despite his drinking and has only grown greater with our exercise regimen and his steady alcohol withdrawal. Peeta hands Haymitch his knife, and the box is cut open.

"What's in here?" I ask curiously.

"This, sweetheart, contains the tapes of past Hunger Games," Haymitch informs me.

I stare. "All of them?"

"No, not exactly. Several Victors have passed away, as you know; I asked Effie to only send the Games of people we may have to face. We're going to watch how they fight, learn their strategies and best moves. To beat your enemy, you have to understand them first."

And so Haymitch proceeds to submerge us in a Hunger Games marathon. 59 out of history's 75 victors are still alive, so it takes us several days to get through all of the tapes. Kill after kill, Game after Game. Peeta takes copious notes, Haymitch provides tidbits of information when and where he can. Me? I just sit and watch mutely, trying not to cry.

* * *

The day of the Reaping in mid-June dawns hot and sultry. Peacekeepers escort me, Peeta and Haymitch to the Justice Building. By now, I am four months pregnant. My baby bump has not become noticeable yet. I look more bloated than pregnant, and that could be readily explained as to how healthily I have been eating. Neither Peeta nor Haymitch have realized yet that I am with child.

Effie Trinket lacks her usual verve, and unlike past years, the Reaping takes only a minute. She snags the one piece of paper in the Girls Reaping Ball that everyone already knows has my name on it; reading my name is just a formality at this point.

"The female tribute from District 12... Katniss Everdeen."

A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I look to Haymitch, who nods solemnly. He remembers our deal. My heart pounds as Effie draws for the men.

"The male tribute from District 12... Haymitch Abernathy," Effie breathes out. I glance up, horrified, for I know what will happen next.

"I volunteer as tribute," Peeta calls out with zero emotion, but Haymitch grabs his arm.

"I can't let you do that."

"You can't stop me," my husband determinedly counters.

"Peeta -"

"Let go."

And with that, I am forced to fight to the death all over again. Only this time, not against the man I love, but against the man to whom I am married.

Just then, the whole of District 12 raises their hands in the three-fingered salute. With so many performing what has now become a gesture of rebellion, the Peacekeepers cannot drag them all away.

But they can block them off, prevent them from seeing us. So it is that our Head Peacekeeper drags Peeta, Effie, Haymitch and I onto the train, without even letting us say goodbye to family and friends.

Before I know it, I am leaving District 12 for almost certainly the last time, my unsaid goodbyes still hanging on my lips.


	14. Chapter 14: Quell Training & Interviews

**Chapter 14: Quell Training and Interviews**

The train has not gone very far before Effie calls an emergency meeting. She, Haymitch, Peeta and I gather in the dining car.

"I've had a thought," Effie announces.

"You don't say," Haymitch replies sarcastically. He's probably acting this way because of the spirits glass in his hand; now that he's free of the arena, he can be his cantankerous old self again. I want to slap him.

"Katniss has her gold mockingjay pin. I have my hair," Effie gestures to her Capitol golden locks. I'm going to get you two boys something gold."

Haymitch eyes her over the rim of his mug. "Uhhhhhhhhh... why?" His lack of sensitivity is atrocious.

"A token! For unity!" Effie gawks as if it were obvious. "Show them we are a team!" I can see her emotions beginning to crack. "They can't just..."

Understanding now, I take her hand with a grateful smile. "Thank you." Effie may be from the Capitol, but she is not nearly as vapid or emotionally clueless as some of the other people I've observed there.

Haymitch must feel guilty for his snarky attitude, as he clasps Effie's other hand in solidarity. Peeta, meanwhile, takes me free hand in his and kisses it, smiling in his approval.

Effie's right. We are a team.

* * *

I don't notice the throngs of Capitolites which greet us at the train station. I don't even notice my stylists, except for Cinna who gives me a rather prolonged hug that I am oh so grateful for. Before I know it, I am dressed in a black-and-gray dress with matching headpiece, petting one of the horses which will pull my chariot during the Tribute Parade.

"How'd we get here, huh?" I inquire of the horse even though it cannot answer.

"Katniss!" I look up to see the most handsome man I've ever seen (after my husband, of course) striding up towards me.

"Hello, Finnick," I reply blandly.

Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games and from District 4, has been a legendary playboy in the Capitol since he won at the youngest age ever - a mere lad of 14. Naked except for a fishnet about his groin, he bounces a white geometric shape between his fingers. "Do you want a sugar cube? I mean, it's supposed to be for the horses, but they have years to eat, whereas you and I..." He looks me up and down in a way that makes me feel queasy. "... well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it."

"No, thanks," I shrug.

"You look positively terrifying in that get-up. What happened to all the pretty little girl dresses?"

"I outgrew them," I shoot back. I want to cuss this guy out and tell him I'm _married_ , thank you very much, until I remember my nuptials are not public knowledge.

"You certainly did," Finnick practically spits, wearing something between a smile and a sneer on his face. "Now, you - you could have made out like a _bandit_ in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted."

"Well, I've never been the jewelry kind of girl, and I have more money than I need. Whatcha burn all yours on anyway, Finnick?"

"Oh, I haven't dealt in anything as common as money in years," Finnick dismisses with a wave of his hand.

"Well then how do all your women pay for the pleasure of your company?" I know his reputation, and he better the hell know that I know it, too.

"With secrets," Finnick whispers, suddenly standing quite close to me, so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his chest. He smirks at my obvious discomfort. "What about you, Girl on Fire? Any secrets worth my time?"

"I'm an open book," I deflect. "Everybody seems to know my secrets before I even know them myself."

"Unfortunately, I think that's true." He sees something over his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to cancel your wedding." He means the fake, and now superfluous, one in the Capitol. "I know how _devastating_ that must be for you. Ta-ta." He pops the sugar cube in his mouth and struts away, just as Peeta joins me.

"What did he want?"

"To know all my secrets," I whisper in my best seductive voice.

Peeta chuckles. "Well, he'll have to get in line - and wait a very, very long time."

I smile.

Once again, Peeta and I make a big splash during the Parade, with our clothes catching sinetic fire just like last year. President Snow gives a speech that I don't hear a word of, and soon we are meeting up with Haymitch, who introduces me to some of his friends. I realize right away their sense of decorum - and concept of personal space - is as bad as Finnick's. Chaff of District 11 kisses me full on the mouth, and in the elevator Johanna Mason from 7 performs an elaborate strip-tease routine. Worst of all, Peeta is not nearly as uncomfortable as I am during these stunts; in fact, it hardly seems to bother him at all. I promptly punish his indifference by refusing to let him hold me in bed all that night.

* * *

Training comes as a welcome relief. Before seeing us off at the elevator, Haymitch orders Peeta and I to make some allies. I have already checked Finnick, Johanna and Chaff off my list, and when our first sight of the Training Center is the District 5 male throwing up all over the floor, I become even less overwhelmed by our choices.

I should not have held such high expectations. Peeta and I are far and away the youngest victors here, and with maybe two or three exceptions, all the others are in their 30s or older. Peeta and I stick to our divide-and-conquer plan from last year; while he goes throw spears with some of the older men, I review my fire-starting skills with the Victors from 3. Beetee Latier and Wiress are in their 60s and very intelligent. We are soon joined by an 80-year-old grandmother named Mags from District 4; I remember how she volunteered to save a hysterical young girl at the Reaping.

I decide I want all three on my team.

At lunch, Peeta and I compare notes, though the jury is still out this early. I end the day by losing myself in the archery station. After a while, I can see that every other Victor - including my husband - has stopped to watch me work.

Haymitch pounces on me the minute we assemble for dinner that night. "Half the victors have requested you as an ally. What did you do, sleep with them?"

"They saw her shoot, Haymitch," Peeta sighs, his voice laced with annoyance.

"So well that Brutus Gunn of District 2 wants you?" Haymitch presses.

"Did you even watch her last year, Haymitch?" Peeta snaps, but our mentor ignores him.

"I don't want Brutus. I want Beetee, Wiress and Mags," I counter.

Haymitch turns away from me with body language that clearly screams, _I am so done with your shit!_ before pulling out a cellphone and making calls.

* * *

The rest of training goes by in a blur. And with each passing day, my anger at my situation grows. Though he hides it better, I can tell Peeta's has as well. It all culminates in our Gamemaker sessions, in which Peeta paints a picture of Rue and I hang a dummy of Seneca Crane. These proverbial middle fingers help us make Hunger Games history, as we each pull a perfect score of 12. Haymitch is fit to be tied by all of this, raging about how we just painted targets on our own backs.

At the interviews with Caesar Flickerman, however, I feel better about my defiant stand, for I can see that other Victors are taking one, too. By questioning the Quell in subtle (Beetee) and not-so-subtle (Johanna) ways, they manage to work the audience up into a frenzy. By the time my name is called, Caesar has just about lost control of his own studio audience, looking the most frazzled I have ever seen him. Seeing me in my bridal dress does not calm him or his viewers in any way.

Twirling seems to be the only thing I can think of that could possibly make the audience feel better. Yet even this ramps up the emotional volatility. For when I complete my spins, my white dress has literally burned away, to reveal a beautiful black gown with wings.

 _Mockingjay_ wings. I have just unknowingly personified myself as a symbol of the rebellion.

Peeta is last of all. I must not be the only one who thinks my husband is a calming presence, for the hysteria in the audience dies down considerably as Caesar asks his first question.

"Now, Peeta... the wedding. A marriage. Never to be?"

"Well, actually, we got married. In secret," Peeta answers. The audience gasps. I am torn over whether I want this to be out in the open or not. At least, the Capitol can't have my memories of my wedding - me in my simple Seam dress, the primrose flowers and Haymitch practically making the ceremony a one-man show.

"You know, Katniss and I... we want our love to be eternal. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if it... if it weren't..." Peeta is struggling to maintain his composure. Why?

"For what? If it weren't for what?" After being at his wit's end almost all night, Caesar practically screams the inquiry.

"If it weren't for the baby."

It takes all of my composure for my mouth to not fall open. How did he figure it out? How does he know? I chance a quick glance at my stomach. No. He could not know that this bombshell, is in fact, real; otherwise, he would have confronted me about it.

Having been essentially given permission by Peeta, the audience completely loses its shit. Cries of "Baby killers!" and even "Stop the Games!" are thrown out. A stampede nearly ensues; several people up and faint and have to be carried from the hall.

But the most explosive moment of all is when we Victors all join hands in a display of unrepentant solidarity.

* * *

Effie looks the most aggravated I have ever seen her when she enters our quarters that night. "Why did you not tell me about Katniss's pregnancy? Don't you think a pregnancy is something I have the right to know about?" she actually screams at my husband.

In an equally uncharacteristic move, Peeta finally loses his temper, blowing up at our escort. "EFFIE! The reason we didn't tell you about the pregnancy is because there isn't one! _There is no pregnancy!_ Get it?!"

I bite my tongue, while inside I feel relieved. So he doesn't know after all. I only feel terrible that I cannot confirm his risky declaration as real.

Haymitch actually is the one who manages to calm everyone down. What wonders never cease! "Baby bomb was a stroke of genius. Unfortunately, the Games are still on. This is goodbye, for now."

We hug our goodbyes in turn, Peeta holding on to a weepy Effie for longer - as an apology for yelling at her. She clasps both our hands.

"I am truly sorry. You both deserved... so much better." She nearly runs from the room, leaving Haymitch, Peeta and I alone.

"Any last advice, old man?" Peeta asks.

Haymitch smirks. "Stay alive," he quips. He turns to me, expecting me to say something, but I only bore my eyes into his, communicating silently.

 _Do whatever it takes to keep Peeta alive. Promise me_.

He nods; he's got the message. Then leaves me with this: "Katniss, when you're in the arena... remember who the real enemy is."


	15. Chapter 15: Man and Wife in Death Match

**Chapter 15: Man and Wife in Death Match**

I smell the sweat of my slick skin against my husband's as I am pulled out of sleep. It's a miracle I got any at all.

Peeta and I spent our last ensured night of life crying and holding each other and making passionate love in my bed. Now a knock on the door from Effie comes with the rising sun. Peeta shifts in the bed as he prepares to go.

"Stay! Stay!" I whimper, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. Peeta merely takes my face in his hands and kisses me soundly.

"I love you..." he croaks out.

"... and the arena will never change that," I finish what has now become a mantra between us.

I take my own sweet time showering and dressing after he leaves; by the time I leave my room, I only have time to scarf down a few rolls of bread Haymitch angrily chucks at me, and that is my breakfast. Doesn't exactly matter - I made sure to eat heartily over the last four days, for myself and for the baby.

Before I know it, the hovercraft is landing at the arena site and I am being hustled underground to meet with Cinna, who changes me into my arena jumpsuit.

"It's more meshy this time, yet light," Cinna muses. "So I would suggest tropics or desert."

"That dress you made was beautiful, even if I had no idea what was in store for it."

He smiles. "I thought you'd like it," and fastens the mockingjay pin to my sleeve. "Remember, I'm still betting on you, Girl on Fire."

We hug, and I step into the pod, this time showing no fear.

That doesn't last long, though.

Peacekeepers burst in without warning, seizing Cinna and throwing him against the glass of my pod to knock him unconscious. The guards continue to beat him with billy clubs.

All I can beat on is the hard glass that separates me from this awful scene, crying and screaming my head off. But now, my pod is rising; the last thing I see is Cinna's body being hauled away like a slab of meat.

Like last year, sunlight blinds me. Unlike last year, it reflects not off of meadow grass, but off water.

 _This is no place for the Girl on Fire._

As the 60 seconds count down, I survey my surroundings. There's the Cornucopia just ahead of me, on a rocky island in the middle of this miniature sea. From this island jut rocky spokes, which I notice trap two tributes apiece into watery wedges. Woof, a victor in his 70s from District 8, shares mine. I do not see my husband, and only pray that I can find him before someone else does. _He can't swim. Why didn't you think to teach him and Haymitch how to swim?!_

When the gong goes off, I dive flawlessly into the water without hesitation. Swimming straight for the island would expend too much of my precious energy, so I make for the spoke to my left. I pull my wet form onto the landmark just ahead of Brutus, the 40-something Career from District 2. He charges for me, looking like he wants to give chase, so I sprint, quickly outstripping him.

Only a few others have even moved from their pedestals, and I wonder just how many Victors are in the predicament of not knowing basic swimming strokes. I bet a good many will die just by drowning alone. Gloss, the male from District 1, is on the spoke to my right, and I race him for the island. He fortuitously trips over his own two feet, which allows me just enough time to outpace him and burst onto the island. I instantly seize the bow I had zeroed in on all the way from my pedestal and arm myself.

WHOOSH! I fire an arrow at a recovered Gloss, which hits him in the thigh and sends him sprawling into my watery wedge. I sense someone behind and re-load as I do an about-face.

It's Finnick, a trident already in his fist with an absolutely smug smile on his face. He raises his free wrist, which sports a very familiar bangle.

Haymitch's token.

"Where did you get that?"

"Where do you think, _ally_? He gave it to me!" The playboy tenses. "Duck!"

I hit the rocks as the trident whizzes over my head. There's a sickening crunch followed by a cry as the weapon sinks itself into the District 5 male's chest.

"Don't trust the Careers! I take the ones on this side; you hold off the ones on the other. And I'll go find Peeta!"

I don't have time to argue, or even question this alliance that has been so haphazardly thrown together. No, not thrown together - arranged. Haymitch didn't like my ally choices, so he has so _considerately_ presented me with one of his own. I let loose at Enobaria, the female from 2, but she is quicker than Gloss, diving gracefully into the sea. That's when Finnick rounds the horn and calls to me:

"Katniss! Mags found him; he's over here!"

On the other side of the Cornucopia, we find Mags pointing worriedly to a struggle going on in the ocean. Somehow, my husband managed to get off his pedestal and at least learn how to tread water, but he is now locked in a life-and-death struggle with the counterpart in his watery wedge, the male Victor from 9.

Finnick takes it upon himself to swim out to the brawl, which I am grateful for. I couldn't do it - not while I'm pregnant. My ally has just about reached them when District 9 drags Peeta under the waves.

I freeze in mid-aim with my bow, panic etching itself on my face and that only grows worse when I hear a cannon. Oh, God, please, no...

POW! My very-much-alive husband bursts out of the water and, once Finnick shows him the gold bangle, acquiesces to being towed to shore.

We don't waste any time after that. Peeta leads the way off the rocky spoke, up a short stretch of beach and into a tropical jungle. Finnick follows carrying Mags piggyback, while I take up the rear as a guard. Only when six more cannons sound, signaling the end of the Bloodbath, do we go at a slower pace.

It is silent, broken only by Peeta hacking at the foliage with a machete, when I notice something glimmering up ahead. A glimmer that seems to signify a -

"PEETA, NO!"

Too late. There's a blast and a crackle as Peeta's body is thrown violently backwards into Finnick and Mags, knocking both District 4 victors to the ground. I scramble to my lover and bend over him.

"He's not breathing! He's not breathing! Peeta!"

Finnick shoves me back, and I am ready to kill him before he kills my paramour, when I notice he is actually _kissing_ Peeta.

No, not kissing. He seems to be breathing air into my husband's lungs, before then methodically pumping the spot where his heart rests.

"Come on, come on, come on, Peeta, come on!" When no response is forthcoming, Finnick simply repeats the process.

I stare in curious fascination. Whatever Finnick is doing, he's done it before, and it's certainly something I've never seen in any arena. Just when I am beginning to think my true love has been lost to me, Peeta breathes and opens his eyes.

"Oh my God!" I choke on my own tears.

"Be careful," Peeta grins like a smart aleck. "There's a forcefield up ahead."

I laugh amidst hysterical crying, and kiss him with all the strength I can muster.

"You were dead, my precious! You were dead! Your heart stopped!"

"Well, it's back on the job now," Peeta chuckles.

I help him into a standing position and grip at him without any intention of letting him go.

After such an exhausting ordeal, Finnick suggests we set up camp. As night falls, the faces of the eight dead tributes appear in the sky.

The male from 5. The male from 6. Both from 8. Both from 9, including the man Peeta drowned. The female from 10. Seeder from 11.

A parachute suddenly comes down to greet us, bearing an oddly shaped tube. My allies and I are too tired to dissect its meaning just now, so I volunteer to take first watch as the others drift into a fitful sleep.


	16. Chapter 16: The Company We Keep

**Chapter 16: The Company We Keep**

The middle of the night is much more eventful than I would have ever wanted it to be.

First, I hear twelve BONGS that signify a meaning unknown, followed by a tree being struck by continuous lightning for an extended period of time. Not long after this plasmic display halts, I hear - BOOM - another cannon.

The jungle is quiet for a time after that, until I notice a strange mist rolling towards me. My curiosity overtaking me, I reach out to touch the substance, only to be rewarded with searing burns to my hand.

"RUN! RUN! There's fog and it's poisonous! RUN!" I shout my companions awake.

Our quartet manages to outstrip the fog at first. But soon, it seems to be advancing towards us from all sides. Any tendrils that do reach us force our bodies to do bizarre things. Half of my face droops like a piece of dough. Peeta's legs begin to take on minds of their own, spastically jerking. Finnick, who is weighed down with carrying Mags, is brought down almost to his knees.

Is this how we all die?

"Finnick, I can't carry Peeta! He's too heavy!"

Upon hearing this, Mags kisses Finnick right on the lips and, without a second glance back, marches straight into the fog. Her cannon sounds quickly.

"MAGS!" Finnick screams for his partner. But there's no time for grief.

"Finnick! Help me!"

Peeta replaces Mags over Finnick's shoulders, and the strong fisherman jogs away. I exhaust the last of my willpower to keep up with them, finally outrunning the fog when the deadly clouds unexpectedly go no further.

But our struggles do not end there.

After purging the poison from our bodies with water from a nearby pond, I notice orange creatures gathering in droves on the trees around us.

They are observing us. And not in a friendly way.

Peeta's simply walking over towards me sets them off. Finnick's trident, my arrows and Peeta's machete become silver blurs felling orange ones that leap towards us. After shooting one of these "monkeys", as Peeta refers to them, at point-blank range, I notice an opening in the trees.

"The beach!" I call to the others, and make a break for it. Peeta follows, but we only get a few yards before our path is blocked by yet another monkey. It readies to attack my husband.

But it finds a different target instead.

A blue-and-gray female figure leaps out of nowhere, taking the beast's fangs herself. Peeta stabs the monkey in the back and extracts the body of... whoever-it-is. "Help me carry her!"

'She' turns out to be the woman from District 6, and we wade her into the water. Cradling the lady in his arms, Peeta gently speaks to her until she slips away. I imagine him cradling a much smaller figure in his embrace, until a cannon interrupts my thoughts.

The hovercraft is just recovering the District 6 woman's body from the tides when Finnick leaps like a gazelle from the trees. He brandishes his trident at unseen assailants (probably more monkeys), but none emerge to challenge him.

By now, the sun is rising, so the three of us busy ourselves rustling up some grub for breakfast. The fish Finnick spears turn out to be savory, even when raw.

As we finish our meal, Finnick spies something up the beach beyond us. "JOHANNA!" he screams.

" _Finnick!_ " Our ally runs up to and embraces one of three brick-red figures; Peeta and I have no choice but to approach and see what all the hullabaloo is about.

The three brick-red people are identified as Johanna Mason, and - would you believe it? - Beetee and Wiress of District 3. The snide lumberjack regales us with their own sorry tale:

"In the middle of the night, we got caught in a total downpour. I thought it was water. It turned out to be blood." She shakes at her jumpsuit. "We were going blind as bats gagging on the stuff. Then Blight ran into the forcefield..." An intake of breath to regain her composure. "He wasn't much, but he was from home. Bastard had to leave me with these two, though!"

During Johanna's monologue, Wiress has been literally going around in circles, mumbling the words, "Tick Tock!" like a prayer.

"We get it! Can you just... shut up!" Johanna throws the older woman to the sand.

"Hey!" I bellow, leaping into the fray to attack Johanna.

"Get your hands off me, you ungrateful bitch! I got them out for you, and this is the thanks I get?" she shrieks. Finnick breaks up our little catfight before it can come to deathblows.

I calm myself down by cleaning Wiress up, while Peeta takes care of Beetee. The old man sports a ghastly gash between his shoulder blades, probably from a knife to the back.

It is not officially declared that our two trios merge into an alliance. It just happens. Despite my socially reserved nature, I don't mind so much. Besides, I did want Beetee and Wiress as partners anyway.

Johanna is the only drawback, but all the same I join her on the the edge of the beach to try and patch things up. We watch Finnick sitting by himself in the low wake.

"How did you lose Mags?" Johanna asks me.

It takes all my effort to meet her gaze. "Poisonous fog."

She does not berate me; just nods her head. "She was Finnick's mentor, you know. Half his family, too; she practically raised him after he won."

Did she have to tell me that? I now feel even worse. Desperate to change the subject, I recall a name I heard Finnick consistently muttering in his sleep the night before. "Who's Annie?"

Johanna purses her lips in a knowing frown. "Annie Cresta, the girl Mags volunteered for. She's Finnick's girlfriend. Won about four - no, five - years ago...?"

That would have been Peeta's and my first eligible year to be Reaped. I actually remember those Games. Annie's district partner was brutally beheaded, and she hid. Later, a dam in the arena broke and she won after everyone else drowned.

"Is she the one who went a little...?" I make a whirling gesture by my head.

"Mm-hmm," Johanna nods. A silence, and then she announces to no one in particular, "Love is weird."

I don't answer, my eyes drifting over to my husband as he chats amicably with Beetee. My heart warms just beholding Peeta in my sights.

No, love isn't weird, just... inexplicable.


	17. Chapter 17: Husband Placed Above

**Chapter 17: Husband Placed Above**

Later that same day, I am helping clean the last of the blood from Wiress. She is still stuck on her 'Tick Tock' mantra, so much so that it begins to reverberate around in my head. I scan the arena.

 _Tick Tock._

Then back again.

 _Tick Tock._

I gasp. "Tick, Tock. It's a clock! The arena's a clock! Wiress! You're a genius!"

She grins in elation that someone finally figured it out. I alert the others and we gather at the Cornucopia to discuss our findings.

"So, knowing the arena's a clock - Lightning, Blood Rain, Fog and Monkeys are the first four hours."

Peeta draws a diagram in the sand to keep up with my ramblings.

"At 10:00, a big tidal wave crashes," Finnick reminds us. I had forgotten we observed that this morning.

"And look! The tail of the Cornucopia points to 12:00 and the lightning tree!" Peeta points.

Beetee follows his gaze. "Good."

"At least we now know where NOT to go," Johanna huffs.

That's when I notice: like a canary dying in a coal mine, Wiress's babbling has ceased.

This warning is all that saves us. Upon seeing Wiress's throat slit at the hands of Gloss, I fire an arrow into his chest. His sister, Cashmere, rushes me, only to get an axe in the stomach by Johanna.

Brutus and Enobaria do not even slow down. The middle-aged bodybuilder throws a spear at my husband but misses; Finnick leaps in the way to protect Peeta, taking a knife from Enobaria in the thigh.

The Careers turn tail and run without more of a fight. Johanna and I give chase.

All at once, the arena itself starts to spin. It is all we can do to hang on to the craggy rocks and stay out of the centrifugal force. I succumb, however, to being flung into the water. Then, the spinning stops as quickly as it had come.

Once my allies retrieve me from the water, I have time to sit and think. Like last year, I am beginning to see a pattern in these Games. Only now, it is not about chance, and it doesn't even have to do with me. This pattern is far more deliberate...

Finnick swimming out to save Peeta. Mags sacrificing herself so that Finnick could carry Peeta. The District 6 woman doing the same thing to save Peeta from the monkeys. Finnick taking that attack from Enobaria to protect Peeta.

There's no question about it: for reasons as yet unclear to me, most of the Victors are placing the survival of my husband ahead of their own lives.

But why? For one thing, that's my job. I am his wife, after all, and particularly covetous of any tasks involving my lover. I decide to confront Finnick about it, but only by asking him about his most recent intervention. He seems to understand my deeper meaning.

"Peeta is probably the only Victor by chance. Maybe we just want him to mean something."

What could that refer to? After some more pondering, I come up with another theory: Do the Victors see in Peeta and his talent with words a potential leader for the growing rebellion?

Beetee interrupts my musings by calling us all over. He is running a golden spool of wire between his fingers and looking quite thoughtful.

"We are down to the Final Eight: us five, District 2, and Chaff. Peeta, I think you pointed that out to me. Undoubtedly, our next step is to go after Brutus and Enobaria. I have a plan, but I want you all to understand it before agreeing to anything. So, let me pose a question to you: if you were the Careers, where would you feel safest?"

"The beach," I answer.

"So why are they not on the beach?" Beetee volleys back.

"Because we're here," Johanna growls impatiently.

"Exactly. We're here, claiming the beach. _Now_ where would you go?"

I take a little longer to work this query out. "I would hide in the treeline, away from any clock-hour dangers and also to spy on us."

Beetee smiles, pleased. "With that in mind, here's what I propose: after the 10:00 wave, but before the 12:00 lightning strike, we run this wire down from the lightning tree to the still-damp sand on the beach. Anyone or anything within its vicinity will be electrocuted."

There's a pause as we consider this.

"How do we know the wire just won't... burn up?" Johanna asks.

"Because _I_ invented it. Don't worry about the wire; it will do just what I say." Well, _that_ has to be the best rebuttal I've ever heard.

We take a unanimous vote to go along with the plan, as there appear to be no downsides. As we prepare for the evening, Peeta and I relax together, enjoying each other's company. It's a long while before he speaks.

"Katniss, sweetie... I don't know what kind of deals you made with Haymitch, but he made me promises, too. Knowing that, I think we can assume he was lying to one of us."

I stiffen against him. A double deal. Would Haymitch really stoop that low to make promises that likely run in direct contradiction with each other? But Peeta is moving on, taking off his medallion token from his neck.

"If you die, and I live, I'd have nothing. Nobody else that I care about."

I open my mouth to speak, but he places a finger to my lips. "It's different for you. Your family needs you, Katniss." And he shows me the pictures inside the medallion. My mother. Prim. And Gale. I stare at the photos, then at him.

"What about you?"

He smiles sadly. "Nobody needs me."

That is undeniably wrong, and I tell him so. "I do. _I_ need you." And one last thought, left unspoken. _Our baby needs you._

We kiss hungrily, and it is the most passionate one I have ever shared with him since our very first in the rain behind the bakery.

Unfortunately, it may very well be the last.


	18. Chapter 18: Till Death Do Us Part

**Chapter 18: Till Death Do Us Part**

The moon is high in the sky when our alliance approaches the lightning tree. Beetee sets right to work, taking measurements and wrapping the wire end over end around the trunk. Finally, he stands.

"There isn't much time. If we want this to work, we must leave now to run the wire to the beach. You girls take this spool, drop whatever remains into the water and then head for the tree in the 1:00 sector. We men will meet you there."

Peeta speaks up. "I want to go with them as a guard."

"No, Peeta, you and Finnick have to stay here to protect me. You all agreed to do what I say and keep me alive until midnight, correct?"

I nod to Peeta, letting him know there isn't a problem. When he still looks doubtful, I placate him with a kiss. "I'll see you at midnight."

* * *

Johanna's and my late-night run goes well at first. However, just a few miles from the beach, we feel the coil tighten, as if it has hit a snag. Then -

It snaps. And that's when all hell breaks loose.

Johanna attacks me without warning, pinning me to the earth as she runs a knife into my arm. She claps a hand over my mouth when I try to scream.

"Stay down!" she hisses. And disappears without finishing me off.

I lie there in the foliage, almost certainly in shock, barely staying conscious. Somewhere close by, I hear Brutus shout, "She's as good as dead! Come on, Enobaria!"

His comment gives me new vigor. No. Peeta...

The alliance is over. Beetee's plan will turn into a frantic free-for-all as we brawl beyond the Final Eight and down to whoever will be crowned Victor.

And the Victor has to be Peeta. Keep him alive.

I stagger to my feet and make my way as quickly as possible towards the lightning tree.

BOOM. I freeze at the cannon. Someone is dead. I pick up my pace. That's when I hear him.

"Katniss!"

"Peeta! Honey, I'm over here!" I try to scream, but it comes out in a raspy croak.

BOOM. Another cannon.

" _Katniss!_ " Peeta's voice is becoming more desperate, more anguished now.

At last, I reach the lightning tree. Just as I do, I hear yet another cannon: BOOM.

The site of the tree looks eerily deserted. Except for Beetee's crumpled body, a pointed stick still in his hand. And with the wire wrapped around it. Is he one of the fallen?

I check for the pulse, and amazingly find one. No. He's alive. I'm alive. Three are dead. And somewhere in the night, three more lie in wait.

In that moment, I hear Haymitch's voice in my head: _Remember who the real enemy is._

And it all comes together.

Seizing the stick, I re-wrap the wire around one of my arrows. Just as the lightning rains down from the heavens to strike the tree at midnight, I fire.

The plasmic blast flings me back into the trees. And then -

KABOOM! The arena explodes in an inferno. I watch with eyes hardly seeing as flames rain down from the skies, as metal cascades down with it, as a metal claw reaches down for me while I slip away into what must be death.

* * *

But, no, I wake up. How bizarre. The dead should not wake up.

I find myself in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors. A turn of my head to the left, and I can see Beetee in the bed beside me.

I free myself. Guarded, I seize a syringe from a nearby box and approach a door across the hall. Beyond it, I can hear voices.

"She's going to lose it when she finds out about the boy..." That sounds like Haymitch. What does he mean?

"Just tell her when -" Finnick trails off as I open the door. Next to him are Haymitch... and Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee.

I lunge at my mentor in a fit of rage, but his strength pins me and my syringe against the wall. "So... you and a syringe... against the Capitol. See, this is why no one lets you make the plans."

"What the hell are you doing with him?" I gesture at Plutarch.

"Katniss," the Head Gamemaker tells me calmly. "You have been our mission from the beginning. The plan was always to get you out. Half the tributes were in on it. This is the revolution, and you're the Mockingjay. After Chaff and the Careers died, we rescued you, Finnick and Beetee. And we're on our way to District 13 right now."

It is almost impossible to absorb all this. Except that with Chaff, Brutus and Enobaria's confirmed deaths, that means...

"Where's Peeta?"

No response. I stare down my mentor. "Goddamn it, Haymitch, where is my husband?!"

"In the Capitol," he sighs heavily. "They got him, and Johanna."

My rage explodes almost in slow motion, like a bomb on film that has been slowed down. I lunge for him.

"You son-of-a-bitch! You lied to me! You promised me! You promised me that you would save him over me! You're a liar! You're a liar! Ohhhhhhhhh..."

I devolve into tears as something is plunged into my back and pulls me under. Just before I go, I hear one last crucial piece of information.

"What about her mother and sister? What about District 12?"

"Finnick," Plutarch tells him. "There is no District 12. It's gone..."


	19. Chapter 19: What Have They Done to You?

**Chapter 19: What Have They Done to You?**

I am overcome with relief when I find my mother and Prim alive, in fact, when we arrive in District 13. Gale is also there, having single-handedly saved them and most of Twelve from firebombs that the Capitol rained down after the Games. I am actually crestfallen when I do not see Peeta's parents or brothers among the living.

Plutarch quickly arranges a meeting between myself and President Alma Coin, the leader of District 13. She is an older woman with gray hair and even grayer eyes. Her demeanor is all business, which makes her come across as aloof. Something about her just doesn't sit right with me.

In this meeting, Plutarch and Coin formally ask me to be their Mockingjay and the leader of the rebellion. After consulting privately with Haymitch - despite my still being furious at his betrayal - I agree.

On four conditions.

"One: Peeta and I _are_ actually husband and wife. And I _am_ actually pregnant with Peeta's child." I show them my baby bump. "As such, I expect the best medical attention your District has between now and after the baby is born."

"But of course," President Coin smiles. "The child of the Star-Crossed Lovers must be protected."

"Two: you will rescue Peeta, Annie Cresta, Johanna Mason and any other surviving Victors at the earliest opportunity. None of them will be punished."

Coin looks as though she wants to object, but actually cedes to Plutarch's warning look.

"Three, and this might seem trite: my sister gets to keep her cat. I know you have a policy against animals, but still."

"It will be free to roam inside our bunkers and above-ground, but it must return to your family's living quarters by nightfall," Coin bargains. "If it gets locked out, no one will come for it."

I make a note to relay that to Prim.

"Fourth and finally: when we get into the Capitol, I. Kill. Snow." Except for condition number two, this one is the most non-negotiable.

Coin stands. "Mrs. Mellark, please kneel."

Confused, I do as she says. The President is handed an unloaded automatic assault rifle by an attendant. She then crosses my shoulders with the butt of the weapon.

"Rise, General Katniss Mellark, Mockingjay of the Second Rebellion."

* * *

Happenings become pretty rote in District 13's militarized culture. My rank of General gives me high security clearance and access to most things; only President Coin, her second-in-command named Boggs, and Plutarch rank above me. Every day, I train for the battles that will surely come soon, using weapons that a recovered Beetee has invented himself.

When I am not in training, I am in the Mess Hall eating. It is only in these moments that I can let my thoughts wander. I pine for Peeta, my lost love, rubbing my abdomen as I think of him. I wonder how he is doing, if he is safe, and whether I will ever see him again.

I get my answer on all three counts sooner than expected, when one day at lunch, Caesar Flickerman appears on TV announcing "a special guest"

"Mr. Peeta Mellark!"

I stand from my place in utter astonishment. That's my husband on the screen, all right, and yet it does not look like him at all. He is more gaunt - a feature only accentuated by his ice-cream white suit - and there are distinct bags under his eyes.

Peeta and Caesar begin talking about the last night in the Quell arena. Peeta seems strangely confused about the details. Then, Caesar changes the subject and asks Peeta if he has a special announcement he would like to share.

"Yes. I am calling for an immediate ceasefire between District 13 and the Rebels."

I gasp and begin to cry. This is not the brave, gutsy Peeta I fell in love with. Tears streaming down my face, I stroke his cheek on the screen with my fingers.

"What have they done to you, my love?"

Suddenly, the feed cuts in and out, and I actually hear my voice on the screen. I recognize them as propaganda videos, or propos, I have been filming for the rebel cause. What is more, Peeta appears to be seeing them.

"Katniss, are you there?"

I choke back a sob. I want to scream that yes, I am here, and that I always will be, when Peeta says something that makes me almost keel to the floor.

"They're coming, Katniss. To District 13. You'll be dead by morning!"

I see hands seize him and drag him from view. A scream is all that's heard and a spatter of blood splashes onto the camera lens before the feed cuts to black.


	20. Chapter 20: Share Our Love

**Chapter 20: Share Our Love**

"Remind me, Cressida, why are we doing this again?" I ask, stretching my back as I waddle my now-very pregnant belly into position.

"Simple, Katniss. You have riled up the districts with anger and passion. Now, you must move them with sorrow."

Cressida has suggested that I film more propos videos, only now with a different bent. She wants me to tell Peeta's and my story. Our love story. Believing that talking about Peeta would be therapeutic for me, I agreed, though I did not understand the larger point.

To give me an idea of what she wants, Cressida has Finnick film a propo first. His tale is much darker, yet just as sorrowful, as the one I will tell. In it, Finnick reveals how President Snow poisoned his enemies to rise to power, as well as how he sold Finnick, Cashmere and other Victors as prostitutes to the highest bidder.

I recover from my shock at Finnick's memoir, as Cressida directs me to sit on a small rock. Outside, among fresh trees and free from the stifling District 13 bunkers, I am soothed enough so I can begin:

"I first met Peeta Mellark when I was fourteen, almost fifteen. At that time, my family and I were starving, despite my best efforts to hunt and supply us with game. As a last resort, I attempted to sell old baby clothes of Prim's, but no one would buy. I finally found myself outside Peeta's family's bakery in the rain, exhausted."

"Peeta burned a loaf of bread on purpose, taking a beating from his mother just so he could run out into the rain and give it to me. When I asked him why he was doing this, that was when..." I gulp as I blink back tears. "That was when he first kissed me. And then, I was letting him touch me. And then, he was making glorious love to me in the rain underneath a willow tree..."

"I didn't thank him for his generosity until the springtime. But from that first conversation on, we were friends. And then we weren't, because then we fell in love over that next year. It was a secret, passionate affair that we did not speak of to anyone... until we were Reaped for the Hunger Games."

"After winning, Peeta and I held a secret wedding in the woods beyond my home. The only guest was Haymitch; for him, it was a one-man show!"

The District 13 camera crew laughs and I see Haymitch smile from where he is observing, a bottle in his hand.

"Now, I am a wife without my husband, due to give birth to his child... a child he may never see!" That is all I get out before I break down in tears. Cressida calls cut.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I blubber as she comes up to me, thinking I ruined the take.

"What the hell are you sorry for? That was wonderful!" Cressida bubbles, and I notice she is a little misty-eyed herself.

"Will... will Peeta see it?" I whimper.

"I doubt that, after the stunt he pulled with Caesar. But you can be sure the rest of Panem will see it."

* * *

A few weeks later, I go into labor.

Even though it is the most painful experience I have ever gone through, having my own family perform the operation as Healers gives me great comfort. Haymitch, by now forgiven, holds my hand and gives me encouragement in Peeta's stead.

"That's it, sweetheart! Now push! On my count. Drive it in deep, and hope it sticks... GO!"

I push with all of my might, a scream wrenched from my throat as another, higher-pitched wail contributes to make it a chorus of sounds.

"Katniss, it's a girl! I'm an aunt!" Prim squeals.

I want to tell her that I knew that from the moment I learned I was pregnant, but I cannot find the words. I am too tired - and too in awe.

The little baby has eyes like her Daddy's - eyes as blue as a summer sky. Tufts of brown hair - my color brown - stick up from the top of her little head. I both feel a terror as old as life itself, and an elation that this little creature is mine. _Mine_. And Peeta's.

"Ashley Theresa Mellark," I coo. "You are so pretty, just like your father!"

Haymitch smirks. "A.T.M. Nice to know your daughter has the same initials as a cash dispensing machine!"

I swat his arm at the wisecrack, though I can tell it masks a deep pride on the part of my mentor.

* * *

Cressida films another propo with me holding baby Ashley, talking to her, telling her about her famous father. The final product is so moving and so well received in the districts, that Haymitch comes into my room one day announcing that a rescue mission has embarked to extract Peeta and Johanna from the Capitol.

I feel terrible not to be able to go, though I know I'm in no place to, having just given birth. All that long day, Haymitch stays with me and the baby, periodically leaving to take calls and other status reports on the mission. Not long after midnight, he returns from what must his eighteenth or nineteenth call and lets out a whoop.

"Katniss, they've done it! They've got Peeta!"

My face alights with joy. Peeta. My husband is here. With me. In a minute, I can touch him. See his smile. Hear his laugh.

"Well, don't just stand there, old man!" I playfully bark. "Get me the hell out of this bed!"

Haymitch helps me to my feet, but orders me to leave a sleeping Ashley in her bassinet. "Peeta will see her later."

My mentor leads me to an Emergency Room ward on the other side of the hospital. Doctors scramble about, nursing the survivors who have been extracted. In one corner, I can see Finnick and a ginger-haired woman kissing the daylights out of each other. That must be Annie. A gurney passes by that, with a start, I realize holds Johanna. I almost didn't recognize her with her shaved head.

And there, at the end of the hall, I see someone I thought I might never see again. Someone who, even in this moment, swells my heart.

Smiling tenderly, I run to my husband, eager to embrace him.

I do not understand the confusion on his face until it suddenly morphs into rage, and his hands clasp about my throat.

* * *

When I come to, I am back in my own bed. A wailing Ashley wakes me, and I watch as Haymitch tries to feed her a bottle of milk. Turning my head, I can see Beetee in a chair, observing me with a sad look on his face.

"What happened? What's wrong with Peeta?"

Haymitch and Beetee explain it all to me: through meticulous research, they have discovered that Peeta was placed under a process called 'hijacking' while he was imprisoned. The process itself has manipulated his memories of me, so that he forgets that he and I are married or even in love.

It is too much to absorb. For someone to make Peeta forget that he's in love with me... no one could do that. I conclude that I would rather have been strangled to death than to live and see what my Peeta has become.

"We believe the process to be reversible, but it could take a long time," Beetee informs me as gently as he can. "Until then, we cannot have you conduct any contact with Peeta until we deem it safe enough, and only then under direct supervision."

I understand what he means. In this state, Peeta is no better than a weapon, a danger to himself and to me.

And, I realize painfully, he is a danger to our child.

So it is that I decide to keep the existence of our daughter from her father for a little while longer.


	21. Chapter 21: Will My Heart Go On?

**Chapter 21: Will My Heart Go On?**

I am not the only one who appears despondent over Peeta's condition. The sorrow seems to have permeated into the rest of District 13, as well.

When President Coin announces Finnick and Annie's upcoming wedding, it is a welcome distraction from our troubles.

The ceremony itself is beautifully done. Upon discovering that my mother had rescued her old wedding dress from the District 12 fires, she and I readily let Annie borrow it. Someone procures one of the suits that Peeta wore - recovered on the rescue mission - and it is tailored to fit Finnick.

The District 4 wedding ceremony is a little different from 12's. Like ours, vows are exchanged, but instead of a toasting of bread, a seafaring song is sung. Thus, are Finnick and Annie declared bonded for life.

Dalton, a poor farmer refugee from District 10, kicks up a song on his fiddle. I dance some traditional District 12 folk dances with Prim and baby Ashley. We even teach a recovered Johanna some of the steps, laughing with her at her self-proclaimed "two left feet."

I have just gone off the floor to rest when Finnick calls me into a corner.

"Katniss... I wanted to apologize."

I blink in confusion. "For what?"

"For... not believing you and Peeta were in love. I didn't buy into the story from your first Games, but when Peeta hit that forcefield, I knew that... I knew that I misjudged you."

My eyes fill with tears. "Thank you, Finnick. Apology accepted."

"And, hey," Finnick cracks. "You have excellent taste. I mean, how many men can cook a cake like he does?"

I glance back at the ornate wedding cake, decorated with waves and boats, surprised. I should have known it was Peeta's handiwork.

"Speaking of your husband," Finnick calls my attention back. "Haymitch told me to tell you that Peeta would like to see you."

I leave the wedding reception lost in a fog, as lost as one of the boats on the wedding cake. The walk to Peeta's hospital ward feels like a funeral march. I meet Haymitch by a bolted metal door, and he fastens me with a headset.

"So we can hear what is said. Peeta has one on, too. If things start to go crazy... get out of there as soon as we tell you. You understand?"

I nod, and a medical attendant unlocks the heavy door.

I enter a white, sterile room. A bed lies in the center, which Peeta is strapped down to. His eyes narrow when his gaze finds me.

"What are you doing here?" he growls.

"I came here to see you." I tentatively approach. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I wanted the real Katniss, not some Capitol mutt."

His biting comment hits me right between the eyes. Is this what he has been conditioned to believe? That I am no better than the Capitol creations which torment the arenas? I should not get so angry at his words, but I do.

"Sucks for you - this is the real Katniss, and you had better get used to it! You may not think I'm worth a damn, but you're worth a damn to me!"

Peeta blinks at my talking back, before suddenly laughing. "Well, you're a piece of work, ain't ya?" he drawls.

I don't even know why I bothered to come; it has been a clear waste of my time. "So are you!" And then, before I can think of what I'm saying: "It's just as well our baby died in the arena; who would want you for a father?"

I storm for the door, when Peeta calls:

"Katniss!... I remember the bread."

I freeze and almost - _almost_ \- feel a twinge of regret for the lie I told him. I wait for him to say more.

 _Do you remember kissing me? Do you remember making love to me in the rain?_

But my husband speaks no further words, so I leave the room.


	22. Chapter 22: Abandon Your Vows?

**Chapter 22: Abandon Your Vows?**

By now, I have pretty much written off my husband as lost forever. The only comfort I find is in my daughter, who is blissfully unaware of the trials her father is going through.

Gale Hawthorne also gives me great solace. We were hunting partners when we were younger, but as I grieve for the man I once loved, we draw closer, becoming something resembling friends.

One day, Gale is at work in an ammunitions room; I am sitting on a table and watching him. My friend has just finished assembling a gun when he speaks:

"Katniss... I have something to tell you."

I shrug. "So tell me."

He faces me so that he is looking me dead in the eye. Then, he announces with sincere emotion:

"I am in love with you, Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, I love you. And I want you to pick me instead of him."

I stare in astonishment. Several years sharing game, and I had no earthly idea Gale felt this way. I twist my wedding ring around my fingers.

"Gale, I can't. I'm still married to him!"

"And who's 'him', exactly? The Peeta you remember or the Peeta who seems to have completely lost all sense of reality?" Gale demands earnestly. "Your husband is not the same man you married. I doubt that the real Peeta is ever coming back. So why should you wait around for that? And what about Ashley - watching her father from behind glass and never feeling love from him? Some life that would be! I can give you both a better life! Leave him for me!"

When I continue to refuse, Gale becomes desperate. Then, as unglued as Peeta. He suddenly pushes me flat onto the ammunitions table and straddles me. I fight and scream for all I'm worth. As Gale pulls my pants down, I plead silently to my hunting partner who I feel I have lost now, too:

 _Gale, please. Don't do this._

He never gets the chance to. His body is suddenly violently yanked off of mine. I recall Thresh doing the same to Clove in my first Games as I sit up - and behold the most stunning sight.

Peeta is now on top of Gale, raining blows down on him like a man possessed. Despite being strong himself, I doubt Gale would even have the power to fight back against this almost inhuman force. I watch in awe as my husband beats my hunting partner to a pulp, until the latter is unconscious.

Then, the baker's son rounds on me. I freeze, my heart nearly stopping at the crazed look in his eyes. We are alone; there is no one else here. I don't even know if anyone is aware that Peeta got loose from his room. If he wants to kill me, he has no better opportunity than this.

Yet Peeta hesitates. And that moment of indecision is enough to save my life for the uncountable time, as District 13 soldiers suddenly storm the ammunitions room and tackle my husband, slapping restraints on his wrists. Doctors soon follow, carrying Gale's body away on a stretcher and with the reassurance that he will be all right.

I return to my quarters in a daze. What in God's name just happened? Why did Gale try to rape me? Why did Peeta save me? And why did my husband refrain from killing me, if he hates me so? Utterly confused, I collapse into bed and fall into a deep sleep.


	23. Chp 23: Dream - Husband Hunting Part I

**_Chapter 23: Dream - Husband Hunting Part I_**

 _The snow flurries swirl around me as I head up to the Hob. Underneath my coat, I wear the old blue dress from my mother's Merchant days._

 _Tonight is the annual New Year's Eve party in the Hob. We Seam folk gather to walk the clock strike midnight and ring in the New Year. It is one of the few moments of happiness we enjoy._

 _I have never been one for parties, but my mother encouraged me to go out. Well, ordered might be a better word. Even though I'm only sixteen, my mother is forcing me to find a husband and marry. At least who it is will be left to my choice. Arranged marriages are common in District 12. I doubt anyone would want to be a suitor to me, though._

 _Upon entering the Hob, I spy Gale over at Ripper's bar and take a seat beside him. After small talk and a round or two of shots, we are joined by a ginger-haired fellow._

 _"_ _ **Hello, Katniss,**_ _" he smiles a million-watt grin._

 _"_ _ **Hello, Darius,**_ _" I smile politely at the unusually friendly Peacekeeper._

 _Upon my salutation, Darius buys me an unsolicited drink and engages me in conversation. The young Peacekeeper is known to be something of a flirt in our town - a trait that resurfaces when he ponders, "_ _ **Now what might be a fair trade for a free shot of whiskey?**_ _"_

 _I shake my head with a smile. "_ _ **I can't even imagine.**_ _"_

 _"_ _ **How about a kiss?**_ _" He leans in close to me and grins. "_ _ **Tis the season, after all; I bet there are still sprigs of mistletoe hanging about.**_ _"_

 _I let out a bark of laughter and playfully shove him away. "_ _ **No, thanks.**_ _"_

 _"_ _ **Why not? I tell you, Katniss, my kisses are the most sought-after in the District!**_ _"_

 _This gets my attention and I smirk. "_ _ **Oh yeah? With who?**_ _"_

 _Darius points out women to me. "_ _ **Why, the flower seller with the green muffler. Oh, and the milkman's wife! I have plenty of references in these parts.**_ _"_

 _Gale begins to hoot with laughter as he rises and pays for his drink. "_ _ **Keep talking, Darius! You'll never get a peck outta her!**_ _" And he heads off to dance with Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter._

 _Darius lays off after a while, and I leave the bar and slip just outside to be by myself. Gazing up into the night sky, I can see the stars twinkling._

 ** _"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"_** _Darius has joined me. I simply nod. Just then, I hear the crowd begin to roar the countdown:_

 ** _"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"_** _There is loud cheering, and soon couples fall into each other's arms and kiss, as is tradition. In one corner, I can see Gale kiss a delighted Madge. It gives me an idea._

 ** _"Hey, Darius."_** _He has barely turned to me before I pull his face down to mine and kiss him right on the lips. I feel his tongue graze the bottom of my mouth, seeking entrance, and I grant it, parting my lips for him as I wrap my arms around his neck._

 _All at once, Darius takes me by my waist and pulls me to him. With his free hand, he heavily pets my butt before gallingly raising my one leg to his waist. I surprise even myself when I do not resist. Next second, the Peacekeeper has hoisted me up into the air. We slam back into the Hob's outside wall, still kissing._

 _With me satisfactorily propped up, Darius allows his hands to roam. He rolls back the hem of my mother's dress, before pulling down my panties until they are at my ankles. I respond in perfect harmony by ripping at his belt buckle and throwing down his leggings, boxers and all._

 ** _"Mmmmmmm... Uhhhhhhhhh..."_** _I let out a muffled moan into Darius's mouth as I feel his penis sheath itself into my vagina. The wall wobbles and shakes right along with our bodies as he frantically fucks me. At last, when I can hold back no longer -_

 ** _"Huhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."_** _I sigh as my juices explode in an orgasm. Darius and I kiss for a few more minutes before he releases my lips, pulls out of me and sets me back down. He dresses as silently as I do, before leaving the party with a half-hearted wave. No doubt he figures Gale will come looking for me._

 _My insides and private areas heated, I stand in the cold for a few moments more, pondering what just occurred. I suddenly remember my mother's expectation that I find a worthy suitor and marry._

 _Touching a hand to the lips Darius was kissing just moments before, I wonder: could I marry Darius? Could I be the wife of a Peacekeeper?_


	24. Chp 24: Dream - Husband Hunting Part II

**_Chapter 24: Dream - Husband Hunting Part II_**

 _The bag of game lies heavy on my shoulders as I keep pace with Gale through the woods. We got a good haul today. It should make for a decent trade in the Hob._

 _We finally emerge from the treeline and approach the fence that marks the official border of District 12. It is supposed to be electrified 24/7, but the power has not run through it in years. Crawling under the barbed wire has been a piece of cake since I was a pre-teen._

 _I set the bag down to prepare to crawl under the fence now._

 ** _"I can take over the daily snare run, Gale. Perhaps we'll catch some rabbits. And then -"_** _I am cut off as Gale suddenly takes my face in his hands and kisses me firmly on the mouth._

 _I am completely unprepared. You would think that, after listening to Gale and his teachings for so long, I would know everything there was to know about his lips - which I now register taste like sweet oranges. Or how his hands, which can complete even the most complicated of snares, could so easily entrap me, as he winds them about my waist._

 ** _"Uhhhmmmmmmm..."_** _I think I make this sort of choked squeak in the back of my throat, but I do not pull away. Curious, I close my eyes and kiss him back. After a long moment, he draws away._

 ** _"I had to do that. At least once. After Darius."_** _And then he is gone._

 _I stay sitting in the meadow for a good while afterwards, pondering over how I feel about Gale's kiss, whether I liked it or resented it. He mentioned Darius kissing me at the New Year's Eve party... did he see what occurred? Is he jealous?_

 _Another thought strikes me: can I imagine myself as the wife of a miner? Gale is already working there part-time, and when he comes of age, he will have to work even deeper underground, as did his father before him. Could I be married to him - my best friend - as he puts himself in danger every day; have his children and raise them as I wait to see if he comes home, having survived the mines for another work shift?_

 _I don't know. I just don't know..._


	25. Chp 25: Dream - Husband Hunting Part III

**_Chapter 25: Dream - Husband Hunting Part III_**

 _A few days later, I check the last of the snares before leaving the woods. It is the end of the work week and that means Gale will be free of the mines for a whole Sunday._

 _I head straight for the mines, knowing quitting time will be occurring in about half an hour. I decide to wait for Gale in his boss's office. When I enter, I see a group of miners causing a commotion in front of the desk. Uh oh. Is there a strike underway? Gale would have told me if there was. But these miners don't look angry. On the contrary, they actually looked scared._

 ** _"We started to dig at the block, but it grunted! And moved!"_** _one says._

 ** _"Rubbish!"_** _says Thom, the Miner Foreman._

 ** _"It's not rubbish! It's big - and alive! We're not going in there again!"_**

 _Stressed and baffled at what's gotten into his workers, Thom politely throws them all out, citing that he will have a look at whatever mysterious thing is down there in the morning. He turns back to me._

 ** _"Sorry about all that, Katniss. Just some spooked miners, is all. Please, have a seat. Gale should come up in the elevators in about an hour."_**

 _I take a seat, directly across from his desk. I should also mention that Thom is one of Gale's close friends; about his age, in fact. The youngest Miner Foreman in District 12 history._

 ** _"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from your work, Thom,"_** _I apologize._

 ** _"No, not at all."_** _And he smiles._ _ **"If I had known you come here regularly to wait for Gale, I would have worked less often from home."**_

 _I blink and analyze what he just said. Is he actually flirting with me? I decide to play along._

 ** _"Would you have, now?"_**

 ** _"Yes,"_** _Thom looks me in the eye with sincerity._ _ **"I buy your squirrels from the Hob. See what you've managed to do for a living. You are one of the most fascinating people in the whole district."**_

 _I feel myself blushing quite furiously, and I want to fan myself. I know this is a strange sensation I am feeling, because this is one of Gale's best friends. I decide that the only way to get rid of this feeling is to be bold._

 _Deliberatively, I shove aside Thom's work papers from his desk so that they land in a heap on the floor. I then seductively crawl like a cat across his desk; Thom leaning back in his chair in surprise. But this doesn't stop me as I seize him by the neck and pull him up to me for a deep kiss on the mouth._

 _Thom responds relatively quickly; encouraged, I slip off the table and into Thom's lap, effectively straddling his hips. We start kissing again, Thom now standing from his chair and taking me with him, his hands wandering up underneath my shirt and across my bare back. I fold my arms around his neck, legs around his waist and hold fast._

 _Thom partially bends me back, partially throws me onto his desk and clambers on top of me. I run my hand down along one of his shoulder blades, kissing him with open mouth and tongue. As he settles himself between my legs, I pull his shirt up over his head; I now clasp at the skin of his bare back as we begin to make love..._

* * *

 _By the time Gale arrives, my spontaneous coupling with Thom is long over and we are dressed. Neither of us speaks a word about what occurred._

 _Later that night, as I lie in bed, I begin to imagine Thom as a suitor, then a husband. He's not much older than me. And with his status at the mines, he is paid much more highly than all of his subordinates. Enough salary to raise a family on. Could I be the wife of a Miner Foreman?_


	26. Chp 26: Dream - Husband Hunting Part IV

**_Chapter 26: Dream - Husband Hunting Part IV_**

 _It is Saturday, so Gale is still working in the mines. To keep myself busy between not having school and waiting till tomorrow to hunt with him, I spend the day picnicking in the Meadow with another male I know._

 _Matthew Rivers and I never intended to become friends. And everyone knows I am not a 'friends' kind of person in general, as I am very selective over who I let into my life. But with Matthew and I, it just sort of happened. Sitting together at school lunches soon turned into me taking him into the woods and showing him the wonders of nature._

 _It all trips Matthew's trigger, of course. He is the son of one of District 12's most renowned geologists. He will likely inherit the post from his father one day. But Matthew is more than just a scientific thinker. He is a vicarious reader, and deeply interested in politics._

 ** _"Now the thing about me, is that I want to get into the thick matters of policy. That's why I want to go to school after working in my dad's job after a while. Someday, I'm going to be the Mayor of District 12."_**

 _I laugh._ _ **"Wait till my mother and sister get to know you,"**_ _I tease._ _ **"You three would just sit and philosophize the day away."**_

 _Matthew gets a far-away look in his eyes._ _ **"The winds aloud howl, over the masses, and sing through every shroud. Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze with fears! An instant death, on every wave appears!"**_

 _I giggle._ _ **"Homer's Iliad!"**_ _I only remember the quote because we read that text in school._ _ **"I think it would be wonderful if you were a politician. You're the kind of person of who would not be concerned with who's Merchant and who's Seam."**_ _I feel him staring my way, almost to the point of awkwardness. I laugh and smile._ _ **"You're making fun of me!"**_

 ** _"Nah,"_** _he chuckles._ _ **"I would never make fun of a wonderful Seam girl like you."**_

* * *

 _After our picnic meal, Matthew manages to catch a live deer. Instead of killing it, however, he attempts learning to ride it. The deer is none too pleased. It bucks and kicks until finally it succeeds in throwing Matthew off, over its head, before indignantly scampering away._

 _I freeze when I see that Matthew is not rising from where he fell in the meadow grass. Hiking up the hem of my long sundress, I run to him._ _ **"Matthew!"**_ _, my voice filled with concern._

 _But, when I roll him over, he is laughing his head off, and I realize he has tricked me. I let out an affronted laugh of my own and slap at him. He catches me, and soon, we are rolling down the grassy hill, shrieking with laughter._

 _Matthew finally stands, and pulls me up with him. We are suddenly very close, and I am still in his embrace._

 _Matthew smiles down at me, and I nervously give a ghost of smile back. My eyes soften, grow heavy, and I feel my hand tighten its grip on his bicep. Our lips draw closer and closer together, until at last, we kiss tentatively._

 _The kiss turns very passionate very quickly. Before I know it, we have fallen down into the grass, me on top of him. I feel my sundress nudged off of my body, and moments later, I sense Matthew enter my holiest of places..._

* * *

 _We lie on the picnic blanket, still as naked as babies, after having glorious sex in the Meadow. My head and hand rest on Matthew's chest as I lounge, lost in thought._

 ** _"What's wrong?"_** _Matthew asks._

 _I shake my head._ _ **"Nothing."**_ _But once again, I have had relations with someone who could one day be my husband. I think of Matthew's desired goals. I have no doubt he will be the Mayor of our District one day. But would I be content, living in the Justice Building, being the Mayor's wife? Going to Capitol functions and entertaining Capitolites out of necessity? It does not seem like my cup of tea, at least the last part doesn't. But I am so fond of Matthew... I go to sleep unresolved._


	27. Chp 27: Dream - Husband Hunting Part V

**_Chapter 27: Dream - Husband Hunting Part V_**

 _I stare in astonishment at the boy who has just saved me from selling myself to Cray. We stand in the shadows of the bakery, our arms unintentionally around each other. The boy, Peeta Mellark, has just filled the pockets of my mother's blue Merchant dress with rolls and other small baked goods._

 _I gaze into Peeta's clear blue eyes._ _ **"Why are you doing this?"**_

 _Peeta stares hard at me, and then announces,_ _ **"Because I love you."**_

 _I regard him in utter astonishment - astonishment which then hardens into brave resolve. He loves me, does he? Then he would do well to show me._

 _With that, I brazenly seize Peeta's groin in my rough palm and fiercely press my lips to his in a kiss. My eyes flutter shut as I silently thank him for saving my life, and I put as much of that thanks as I can into the kiss._

 _Peeta responds immediately, slamming me against the opposite wall of the alley. I breathe heavily, moan, as his hands touch my panties, as they slip into my vagina and caress the nub that lies there. I feel a heat I have never felt before rise within me - a heat that I have heretofore never experienced._

 _And with it, I realize: this is the man whom I want to be married to. This is the man who I want to be my husband. Peeta Mellark._

 ** _"Mmmmmm... Mmmmmmmmmm..."_** _I roll my hips frantically into his hand, desiring more, more, more..._

* * *

"More... more... more..." I groan as I feel my juices pulse and lap out of my center. My eyes suddenly fly open. I am no longer being taken by Peeta behind the bakery, but instead am lying in my own bed in District 13.

A bed which is now sopping wet with cum.

I leap out of bed and cleanse myself, then the sheets. I replace the bed with new covers, careful not to wake still-sleeping Ashley.

When all is back in order again, I lie awake the rest of the night. What a dream! But it told me something I should never have questioned. It told me that - whether hijacked or not - Peeta is who I'm meant to be with after all.


	28. C 28: General Mellark vs Private Mellark

**Chapter 28: General Mellark vs. Private Mellark**

The rebellion is slowly gathering steam. I wish I could say the same about Peeta's recovery.

Haymitch and Beetee keep telling me there have been improvements, but I do not feel these improvements are occurring fast enough. When will I have my Peeta back? When it will be safe to see him? When will it be safe for our _daughter_ to see him?

I try to distract myself from my husband's condition by focusing on my battle training. President Coin and her advisers seem to think we can take the Capitol itself in a matter of weeks, since the Districts have now been united against Snow's government. I am told my propos videos helped immensely; I only wish I could have been out there in the field and done more, but I was pregnant with, and then busy nursing, Ashley.

I am part of Squad 451, known as the Star Squad. I am incensed to learn that this group will not see any actual action; rather, we will move in following the heavy fighting and shoot more propos. That explains why most of our squad is made up of Cressida and her camera crew. However, Boggs is also with us, but since he is Coin's top commander, it must be because our videos need even more star power.

One day, we are up in the woods beyond District 13, working on target practice, when a Jeep pulls up. Out of it steps a person so surprising, I nearly drop my gun.

It is my husband. Peeta. With manacles across his wrist.

The solider supervising him salutes Boggs and hands over a report.

"Peeta Mellark has been deemed fit for combat and been made a Private in the District 13 army. He will be in this squad, and is permitted to handle a weapon. President Coin's orders."

I cannot believe it. I thought Haymitch and Beetee said it was not safe yet to be around Peeta!

A thought strikes me: this must be all Coin's doing. I know how oppositional we have been towards one another, ever since I laid out my conditions to being the Mockingjay. Does she think I'm a threat to her rule? Even more horrifying: did Coin place my husband in my Squad - and with weapons access - on purpose, in the hopes that he might kill me in his hijacked state?

Boggs interrupts my ruminating. "OK, people, listen up!" He raises an assault rifle horizontally before us. "This is a weapon of the District 13 government, designed to bring _death_ to the enemy!" He cocks the barrel and presents it to Peeta. Oh boy. Here we go...

But my husband does not take it. "I'm sorry, Supreme Commander. I can't touch a gun."

Boggs frowns. "Private Mellark, I seem to recall that your file grants you access to weapons. You are a soldier in this army, are you not?"

"I am, sir. But this is not about what the President believes is best for me. This is about what _I_ believe is best for me. And that is that I do not handle any weapons. Ever."

Peeta is dancing very close to insubordination. Boggs could have him court-martialed for refusing to obey orders, if he wanted to. But our Supreme Commander does not say anything. Instead, he hands the gun to the soldier next to Peeta in line.

I observe the scene with puzzled fascination. Why would Peeta refuse to handle a gun, if he could so easily kill me with one? Is it possible I was wrong about Coin? Is it possible that Peeta's brainwashing is wearing off?

* * *

We end the day by taking a jog through the woods. Thanks to my training for the Quell, these mile-or-more runs do not even faze me. And, apparently neither do they faze Peeta. We come to a halt by the flagpole a ways beyond the entrance to the District 13 bunkers.

"All right, you maggots - one last test!" Boggs barks. He points up to the flag at the top of the pole. "All of you must attempt to bring that flag down from its perch! The first one to do so gets to ride back with the Mockingjay in my Jeep!"

There is a frantic scramble as the soldiers start pushing and shoving each other and try climbing the pole. None of them get more than a few feet off the ground. But then -

There is an almighty CLANG! as the flagpole topples over, barely avoiding all the startled privates. I look to see that Peeta has a metal fastener in his hand.

He actually loosed the flagpole from its foundation, thereby knocking it down... so he could reach the flag, which Peeta now takes from the pole. I continue to stare at him in amazement, as do all the other privates, as he slides into the backseat next to me. Boggs drives the Jeep off.

Peeta could kill me right now. Choke me to death; Boggs might not even be able to stop him...

But Peeta does not move an inch, all the way back to base.


	29. Chapter 29: Deployed to the Capitol

**Chapter 29: Deployed to the Capitol**

The rebels soon begin to take the streets of the Capitol. With this development, President Coin orders Star Squad to enter the city just behind the front lines, shooting propos until we finally storm the Presidential Mansion. We wear heavy armor that almost makes us look like we are wearing space suits, exploring the moon instead of the aftermath of war.

All the while, I have been observing my husband's behavior. He is less angry and violent now then when he was first rescued. But now and again, flashes of these extreme emotions will come out, yet they are not directed at me; rather, he pours them into the energy of our training.

And then there is Peeta's stubborn refusal to bear any weapons whatsoever. It would be a lot easier to kill me if he had a gun. Then again, he could still kill me with his bare hands if he wanted to. So why hasn't he?

As we begin our silent sweep of already-fought battles and film propos, I feel the need to confess my concerns to someone. Haymitch, Mother and Prim are all back in District 13, so the only person I could possibly confide in is -

"Boggs? Can I ask you something?"

"Go right ahead, General Mellark."

"I know that Peeta is better than he was, but he's still not all there. I'm afraid Coin put him on my squad thinking he would try to kill me. Yet he hasn't. He doesn't even want a weapon! Why could that be?"

Boggs seems taken aback by my reasoning, especially about the part regarding President Coin. "May I offer another theory?" he inquires.

"By all means."

"Perhaps Peeta's refusal to bear arms is not because he is trying to refrain from killing you, but because he is refusing to fight the Capitol, and therefore, helping the enemy."

Bogg's theory is almost as shell-shocking as the one I offered up about Coin. But now that I think on it... could Peeta's hesitance to kill me be because he knows he does not have to? That he could just as easily hand me over to Snow if the rebels somehow lose? I am eerily reminded of how I once thought my then-boyfriend was going to bequeath me to the Careers in our first Games.

KABOOM! There is a sudden explosion just above our heads that nearly sends all of Squad 451 whirling to the ground. I look up and through the haze of the explosion, I can see white figures advancing. Peacekeepers!

This battlefield was not cleared properly! It isn't safe!

"FALL BACK!" Boggs roars, and our squad goes into full retreat, making for an abandoned Capitol office building on one side of the street. Myself and a few others are not so lucky; trapped by enemy fire, we have to hide behind statue ruins and other large debris to avoid being hit. Of our squad's thirteen members, six of us are caught in the crosshairs of Peacekeeper bullets.

And then, I witness something truly miraculous. Through the smoke, through the hail of bullets, I watch in awe as my husband runs from the safety of the office building and out into enemy territory. Using only the scattered objects around him, he dodges the Peacekeeper's grenades and shooting to get to our comrades, one by one. Then he carries them to the office building and safety - all without a single weapon to protect himself!

He is like a spirit, a ghost whom the Peacekeepers cannot harm. He rescues Cressida. He rescues Castor and Pollux, the twin Avox cameramen. He rescues Finnick, in a strange reversal of how the fisherman saved the baker's son in the Quell. Peeta even rescues Gale, who is pinned down not far away from me.

And through all the tumult, I can hear Peeta sending up the same words, over and over again, like a prayer: "Please, Lord - help me get one more. Help me get one more!"


	30. Chapter 30: Help Me Get One More

**Chapter 30: Help Me Get One More**

Night falls before Peeta can get out to me, the last Star Squad member still trapped. As the mist clears the next morning, I awaken from my hiding place to hear the Peacekeepers beginning to advance through their own booby traps to destroy us. If they find me and kill me, the rebellion will be dealt a significant blow.

I jump when I suddenly feel a presence next to me. It's Peeta, who puts a finger to his lips.

"Grab onto me!" he orders.

"Why?" I blink. "What are doing?"

"It's called saving your life, sweetheart! Come on, I'm gonna carry you! It's not like you can walk."

Oh, right. I had almost completely forgotten that a Peacekeeper bullet hit me in the leg yesterday. I listen for the sounds of the white-plated enemy guards coming closer. We are out of options, and almost out of time.

"Let's do it!" I growl. Peeta scoops me up, bridal-style. I soften in his embrace. How much I have missed him holding me like this! The last time he carried me like this was across the threshold of Haymitch's house, after our wedding.

Peeta takes off at a sprint. The Peacekeepers spot him almost immediately and begin shooting. My husband runs in a zig-zag pattern to avoid the shots. He is almost to the office building where the rest of our squad awaits. I am beginning to wonder if he has some kind of protective forcefield around him when -

"GAHHHH!" Peeta seizes up as a bullet finally finds a mark - in his real leg. If it had hit his artificial leg, the bullet would have just bounced right off.

Peeta falls right through the ground. He falls through an open manhole, in fact, taking me with him. We plunge about twenty feet before landing in ankle-deep sewage with a grand SPLASH!

With both of us now wounded, it takes each of us supporting the other to move out of the open sunlight from above and deeper into the sewers. We discover a dry patch of cement shaded by an overhang, and pause there to rest. It kind of reminds me of our little cave in the first arena.

For the first time, my husband and I get a really good look at each other. We just went through hell and back once again - and survived. All at once, we burst out laughing, and move in towards each other.

We are stopped by our space-suit like armor. The stuff is bulky and keeps us from having close physical contact, so we desperately fight against it until our lips finally meet and we kiss for all that we're worth.

"Mmmmmmm... Ahhhhhhh... Uhhhhhhh..." I moan happily as Peeta ravages my lips with his own. No rational thought guides us. We simply tear at each other's armor, stripping ourselves of it until there is nothing but our civilian clothes underneath.

Our relations become more tender. Peeta slowly unzips the little black dress that I wear and I step out of it, advancing towards him. All the while, I unbutton his shirt and cast it aside to reveal his bare chest. Now naked, and despite still being wounded, we fall back onto the cement. Man on top of woman, we have sex for the first time since before the Quell.

* * *

We fall asleep for a short time after making love. When we awaken, I remove the bullets from both my leg and Peeta's, then use the medical kit in my discarded armor to dress our wounds. That done, we lie back together and just talk. Talk more than we have never been able to do in the longest time.

"I'm sorry I thought you were a mutt. I knew something about the memories the Capitol gave me were off. Trouble was, for a while I could not tell what was real and what was made up," Peeta confesses.

I raise my head off his chest to look at him. "Then you should ask, Peeta. I'm your wife."

He smiles, and tenderly plays with my hair. "I know. And I will never doubt your love for me again. The arena didn't change that, and neither will this war."

That reminds me. I blush furiously as I get out, "I... I think your refusal to carry a weapon - and then saving all of us without one was _very_ brave. In fact... I've always thought you were braver and kinder and more different than any man I have ever met." I shyly meet his eyes and say with conviction. "I fell in love with you because you weren't like anyone else."

Peeta takes my hands in his. "I want to show them they don't own me, Katniss. None of them - not the Capitol, not District 13. The only person who owns anything of me is you."

My eyes fill with tears at his words, and I kiss him tenderly. As I snuggle back against him and reflect on what he has said to me, I realize he's right - I _do_ own something of him.

This realization gives me the courage to say something I've wanted to say for so long:

"Peeta... we have a daughter."


	31. Chapter 31: New Mission

**Chapter 31: New Mission**

Peeta and I spend the night under that sewer overhang, still naked. We do not dress back into our cumbersome armor suits until what I judge to be the next morning.

Now that I know my husband is back for good, and that we still love each other, our first order of business is to find our way out of this sewer. We stick to the cement edges of the pipes as best we can, as wading through the muck might ruin our bandages and infect our wounds.

It isn't long before we discover that we are no longer alone in this sewer.

"Katniss!" A portion of my Star Squad suddenly appears out the darkness: Cressida, Castor, Pollux, Leeg 1, Gale, Finnick and Jackson run up to us.

"Where is Boggs? And the others?" I inquire.

I can tell by the looks on everyone's faces that there is bad news.

"Boggs is dead. So are Leeg 2 and Mitchell," Jackson confesses. "We barely escaped with our lives." The man who is Boggs' second-in-command peers at me curiously. "He died saying you had a secret mission - something not involved with our propos shoots. He wouldn't transfer the codes of the HoloNet over to me; he gave them to you."

I am stunned. Whatever this is about a secret mission is a total lie.

On second thought - maybe it does not have to be.

"Yes," I quickly fib. "My secret mission is to assassinate President Snow."

All the others, including Peeta, stare in surprise. "Don't you think that's something you should have told us?" Jackson asks, barely holding in simmering anger.

"If I had told you, none of you would have come." It's an explanation that I quite frankly pull out of my ass, but still.

Cressida huffs. "Whatever the reason, this is Katniss's mission. And we are now her Squad." She moves to stand next to me. At her prompting, the others follow, Jackson reluctantly.

With that, I begin to lead the way, even though I have no clue where we are going. Pollux, thankfully, does. When he communicates how he used to labor in these very sewers, I cede the position of guide over to him.

The pipes have darkened now, and I imagine that it is now night in the world above. All of a sudden, I hear something echoing in the distance. A hiss, really. It chants only one word. My name.

 _Katnisss... Katnisssssss..._

I stiffen, and those of us who are able ready our weapons, pointing them into the darkness beyond. For a moment, all is quiet. Then -

Lizard mutts come wheeling out of the shadows, attacking without regard for who their victims are. We fight them off as best we can, breaking through their lines before scattering our own ranks and pelting into the blackness ahead. We go for what must be a mile or so, lizard mutts giving chase, when the spotlight from Pollux's gun falls on a ladder.

"Climb!" Cressida pushes me towards the rungs. I quickly scale them, followed by Peeta, then Gale, then Finnick, then Cressida. Pollux is just grabbing onto the ladder when a lizard mutt lunges for him and yanks him back into the filth. Other mutts pounce for him; Pollux can't get up! As an Avox, he can't even scream for help.

I can see how this will end. Fighting back tears, I remove a tiny explosive device that Beetee invented and drop it down the hole.

"Nightlock... nightlock... nightlock."

I slam the manhole cover that we burst through back into place as a giant explosion rocks the sewers below.

We five survivors continue on, by now reaching realms above-ground. We sprint through an abandoned subway station, dodging pools of light that dissolve anything in their path. At last, we leap over a crevice bursting forth in the cement beneath out feet. I land in a heap just next to my husband. I rise, ready to stagger onward, but Peeta doesn't move.

"Peeta, come on! Peeta!"

My husband has his head pressed against the ground; he seems to be fighting against something within himself.

"I'm a mutt! Leave me, alone, Katniss, I'm a mutt..."

"Peeta, we have to keep going..."

"Leave me alone, I can't -"

"Yes, you can! LOOK AT ME! Look at me!" Forcing his gaze to mine, I take my face in his hands and kiss him with all the strength I can muster. I go at it for so long that I soon have to come up for air.

"Stay with me. Stay with our baby."

I can tell just from gazing into Peeta's eyes that the man I love is back. "Always."

"Come on," I encourage.

Cressida leads us out of the station and into the deserted night-time streets. She approaches what looks to be a tailor shop across the way and pounds on the door until a Capitol woman with tattoos like a tiger answers.

"Tigress, we need shelter. Can you help us?"

Tigress nods, and leads what's left of our little band down into the store's basement. It seems to fit Cressida's designs perfectly, for she proposes that we rest here for the night to regroup. And also to grieve for the lost.

Peeta agrees, but refuses to fall asleep until someone puts his manacles back on him. I had almost forgotten he wasn't wearing them when he rescued me and the others, or even that he ever wore any at all. Cressida procures them and hands the cuffs to me.

So it is that I proceed to chain my own husband to the basement stair banister. I feel awful doing it, but if this is what Peeta thinks is in his best interest, who am I to argue? That task done, we all burrow into discarded coats and other furs to fall asleep.

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night to voices.

"Thanks for the water," I hear Peeta say.

"It is I who should be thanking you," Gale replies. "And also apologizing. I'm... sorry that I tried to rape your wife."

"You thought I was too far gone; that she had no chance to get me back," Peeta points out. "But all the same, I forgive you."

I nestle back into the furs with a soft smile, relieved that those two have finally made amends.


	32. Chapter 32: If Something Happens

**Chapter 32: If Something Happens**

I rise with the dawn the next morning and prepare my weapons. Today is the day I will attempt to assassinate President Snow.

Tigress has informed us that many Capitol refugees will flood the gates of the Presidential Mansion today, as Snow has promised relief for them. If Gale and I can dress like these citizens using the clothes from Tigress's shop and mingle with them, I might be able to get close enough to the President and shoot him.

Up in the shop, everyone says their goodbyes. Nobody mentions these may be the last goodbyes we ever share.

"Tigress, thank you for everything you've done," I express. She nods. Then, I turn to my husband. Just the sight of him and the possibility that I might not look upon his face again nearly makes me come undone. I swoop him into my arms and kiss him; we continue to make out until somebody behind us awkwardly clears their throat.

"Katniss, honey, _when_ I see you again... it will be a different world," Peeta proclaims, conveying his faith that I can carry out this mission successfully.

I give him one last hug, while I push two items into his hands. The first is a blue medicine pill created by scientists in District 13; called 'nightlock', it brings instant death to the person who consumes it. If Peeta is captured by enemy forces, I want him to swallow this. He would agree with me that it would be better to be dead than to be taken back into Snow's clutches alive.

The second item is an envelope containing my will. I had written it long ago, while Peeta was still recovering, in case I did not survive and he did.

 _My sweet love,_ it says. _If you are reading this, I am no longer a part of this world. I leave you with the things most precious to me._

 _The first is our daughter. Her name is Ashley Theresa Mellark. She is like you in so many ways - headstrong, sweet. Please get better so that you can be her father and start a family._

 _The second item is enclosed here: the medallion you wore in our second Hunger Games. Fill it with pictures of me, and of our baby._

 _Finally, I leave you with my love. I knew, from the moment we made love under that willow tree in the rain, that I was a goner. You said something of the same to me once. You might not recall that memory, but I still became a goner._

 _Live for me, Peeta. Live for our child. I love you. Always._

 _Your wife forever,_

 _Katniss_

* * *

Thoroughly disguised, Gale and I leave Tigress's shop. We immediately blend in with the throng of Capitol citizens flocking to the Presidential Mansion. A voice over intercoms throughout the city draws the hordes like moths to a flame.

"Gather safely and quietly. The President will provide food and medicine to you soon."

And indeed, as Gale and I draw closer to the mansion's gates, we can see that planes are flying overhead, dropping a first round of parachutes down to eager hands.

The gifts have barely reached those in need before all hell breaks loose.

The gifts turn out to not be gifts at all, but bombs. Bombs that explode and spit fire on anyone and anything in its path. Screams split the air, and a stampede nearly erupts. Peacekeepers in armored cars suddenly appear and plunge into the chaos, beating their own people.

In the confusion, I have lost sight of Gale. But I do spy someone else.

My sister. Prim. Running not away from the danger, but towards it, as any good Healer would. I call out to her.

"PRIM! PRIM!"

She hears, turns. Her eyes widen as she recognizes me.

Her lips are just forming my name when the second round of bombs goes off.

* * *

I really am the Girl on Fire now. I can feel the flames lick up my clothes. Only they do not sooth, as Cinna's flames once did. They burn. They sear. They singe. They burn until I drift into unconsciousness.


	33. Chapter 33: The Victors Council

**Chapter 33: The Victors Council**

While I am recovering in a converted District 13 hospital, the rebels take the Presidential Mansion, and with it, the Capitol.

President Snow is captured, but because there is no suitable place to hold him (all his prisons are full), Coin orders that he be placed under lock-and-key in his own greenhouse - apparently one of the old man's prized possessions.

Once I am healed enough from my burns, I am given a tour of Snow's mansion before being escorted to the greenhouse. A sentry posted at the front door opens it for me, and I enter.

The room feels like a sauna, quickly warming me. So why do I still feel a chill, when I peruse every kind of flower imaginable, becoming especially unnerved at the sight of a white rose?

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

I spin about to see the... former President of Panem sitting in a simple garden chair. He coughs loudly into a handkerchief; I think I see the faint red of blood on the white linen when he pulls it away. Has the rebellion cost him his health?

"My dear Ms. Everdeen, I want to stand by what we agreed in our last meeting: that we not lie to each other."

I do not wish to agree to anything this man says; he has no power over me now. But I remain silent.

"You were too focused on me: a President painted as a tyrant. And I was too focused on you: a poor girl from the poorest district. We were both blind to the real threats. I'm afraid that we have both been played for fools. Think about this for a moment, Ms. Everdeen: do you really think I would have dropped bombs on my own people? The people who were truly loyal to me? Loyal to the Games? It seems to be a pretty poor war strategy, don't you think?"

"And then there is your... husband, is that correct? A boy whom everyone held up on a pedestal when, really, he was just like any other Victor. In his heart, he was just a ruthless, cruel killer."

Snow's slander against my husband finally causes me to explode. "You're wrong about him! You don't know what's in his heart!"

"Oh, yes I do! I told you we should not lie to each other. One day, he will kill you, Ms. Everdeen. Or break your heart. And it will have been all my doing."

I stiffen in rage. "First of all, my name is Katniss Everdeen _Mellark_. And second of all, if you think Peeta will break me, you're going to have to wait a very, very long time."

With that, I storm out of the greenhouse.

* * *

Later that day, President Coin - now the Acting President of Panem - convenes a special meeting. As the Mockingjay, of course I am invited. Yet I am surprised by who else is gathered around the circular table when I enter.

"What is this?" I ask, scanning the faces of Peeta, Haymitch, Finnick, Annie Johanna and Beetee.

"It appears to be a gathering of the surviving Victors," Annie informs me quietly.

I take a seat between my fellow District 12 champions. "We're all that's left?"

"We were targeted on both sides," Beetee informs me gravely. "Some, as you know, were killed in the Quell. Others were hunted down by the Capitol. Some were assassinated by the rebels."

President Coin clears her throat. "I have convened you all here to propose something that might make Panem's tradition to democracy a little easier." She pauses impressively. "I propose that we hold a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using only Capitol children. A majority of 4 may approve the plan; no one may abstain. You may cast your votes now."

"No!" Peeta instantly says. "We can't have another Hunger Games! This is why we rebelled? Remember?"

"I agree with Peeta," Annie says quietly.

"And I agree with Annie," Finnick says, placing his arm around his wife.

Johanna just smirks. "Why the hell shouldn't we have one? Snow even has a granddaughter. I vote Yes."

"I vote Yes, too," Haymitch says. "A little revenge never hurt anyone."

President Coin marks the votes on a pad. "That is 2 For and 3 Against. Now why don't we let Beetee and Katniss decide?"

I am silent for a good moment, twisting my wedding ring around on my finger. "I vote Yes... for Prim."

Then everyone looks to Beetee, who looks deep in thought.

"No," he finally speaks. "We have to stop seeing each other as enemies. I vote No."

"Alright," Coin says. "That's a majority. There will be no more Hunger Games. Meeting adjourned."


	34. Chapter 34: Execute the President

**Chapter 34: Execute the President**

The City Circle is eerily silent as I begin the long walk down the promenade towards the execution gallows. Upon reaching my designated place across from where President Coriolanus Snow is chained to a post, however, the crowd of rebels erupts in cheers.

Without any emotion, I pluck my bow from my back, and notch an arrow to the string. I look up to the podium above the ring, where Coin looks down on me with triumph. I then pull the string back and take deadly aim right at Snow's heart.

Suddenly, time stands still. As I stare down into the eyes of this snake, who damn near took everything from me, I think back to our conversation in the greenhouse.

 _'Do you really think I would have dropped bombs on my own people?... I want to stand by what we agreed in our last meeting: that we not lie to each other.'_

That's when I realize: Snow didn't lie to me - at least not then. I don't know how I know this. All I know is that I should not lie to myself, either.

That is why I shoot my arrow in such a way that it plunges into the heart of President...

Coin.

* * *

Immediately after I shoot the Acting President of Panem, Snow bursts out into hysterical laughter, spewing blood from his mouth. Before anybody can move, I lunge for the one nightlock pill capsule I still have on me.

But someone grabs my arm. I whip around to see that it's my husband.

"Let me go, Peeta!" I yell.

But his eyes are wide with terror. "I can't!"

A stampede ensues, with rebels and Capitolites alike rushing the City Circle ring, swarming around me and the post holding the former President. Hands seize me, pick me up; I lose my grip on the nightlock and just catch sight of it before it is crushed under a Peacekeeper's boot. The mob then proceeds to carry me like a felled deer into the Presidential Mansion.

* * *

I am placed under house arrest within the Mansion almost immediately. For days, I lie in a locked room, with no one and nothing for company.

Through my locked door, however, I am able to acquire some information. The excitable crowed apparently crushed President Snow to death against the post to which he was trapped. Or maybe he coughed up enough blood until he died. No one really knows.

As for me, I am put on trial in abstentia. Plutarch Heavensbee represents me, pleading an insanity defense that, amazingly, works. The jury declares me not guilty.

Once the trial is over, I am released from my bedroom cell, but I cannot leave the Mansion. As I wander the halls one morning, I come into a giant, ornate room to find Gale sitting in one chair.

We stare at each other silently. Finally, I get to demand answers from him, about what has been on my mind since my meeting with Snow in the greenhouse.

"Were the bombs ours?" I ask, my voice steely.

"Yes," Gale sighs resignedly.

"You made them. Your bombs killed my sister," I growl.

"I didn't mean for that to happen!" he protests.

"You didn't mean for a lot of things to happen. But that doesn't mean they weren't wrong." I set my jaw. "Goodbye, Gale."

And I walk out of the room, and out of my hunting partner's life forever.


	35. Chapter 35: Become a Family

**Chapter 35: Become a Family**

I stay in my room for a full day after parting ways with Gale. A part of me actually does not want to leave this place. Haymitch, however, comes barging into my room one day.

"It's all over, sweetheart," he tells me heavily. "Come on. "We're going home."

The two of us meet Peeta just outside the Presidential Mansion, where the three of us bid our goodbyes to Effie.

"Don't be a stranger, Trinket," Haymitch grins, kissing her on the cheek in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "Come visit us in Twelve."

An armored car ferries us to a launching pad, where a hovercraft awaits. Our four fellow Victors - Beetee, Johanna, Finnick and Annie - are there to see us off.

"Any idea what you guys will be doing?" Peeta asks.

"We don't know," Annie meekly confesses. "All our homes were destroyed. Our families are dead. We don't even know if there is anything left of our districts."

"Well, that makes seven of us, at least on the No-Districts part," I say. Suddenly, I get an idea. "Why don't you four come and live with us in Twelve? A change of scene might be just what you need to rebuild your lives!"

Haymitch and Peeta stare at me.

"Are you feeling all right, sweetheart?" the old drunk asks.

"Yeah, we thought you weren't much of a 'people' kind of gal," Peeta chimes in.

"I'm not," I admit readily. "But you're the only people who really understand me. And frankly, who like me. So, who better to have around?" I sling an arm over Peeta's shoulder and give him a deep kiss.

Our fellow Victors look at each other, before sharing smiles one by one. They've agreed.

* * *

Plutarch was right when he first rescued me from the clock arena. There hardly is a District 12 anymore.

The Justice Building, the Merchant sector, the Seam - all of it was burned to the ground, turned to ash.

But one thing still stands: the Victor's Village. We seven Victors approach the last standing buildings left in Twelve, somewhat still in awe of it.

"Plutarch says it's the only such Village to survive the Capitol's bombings," Beetee offers up.

"At least we have somewhere to sleep," Haymitch grumbles. "All right, everyone, listen up! There are three houses already occupied, but really only two are taken. Katniss, you said you would be moving into Peeta's place, right?"

"That's right," I smile, taking my husband's hand in mine.

"Well, I can already tell which place is yours, Abernathy," Johanna cracks. "It looks like a pigsty!"

"Yes, like a pig's eye - sty - goddamn it, Johanna! What have I told you about mocking me while I'm drunk?" Haymitch roars. We all burst out laughing. He faces the rest of us.

"Katniss, Peeta, go to your house and... sleep, or something. The rest of you - congratulations, you have the pick of the litter! Just choose a house and start moving in!"

Everyone breaks to do just that. As it gets on late afternoon, Finnick and Annie look out the window of their selected home to see a woman coming up the path, carrying a bundle in her arms.

"Halloo over there!" Finnick calls, alerting me and the others.

When I see who the visitor is, I sprint out of Peeta's and my house, down the path, and fling myself into my mother's arms.

"Careful!" she chuckles wearily. "Don't crush Ashley!"

I jump back, my face lighting up with joy at the sight of my infant daughter. I take her in my arms and rock her. Peeta soon joins us, staring in wonder. He seems to be at a loss for words.

I smile tenderly at him. "Would you like to hold our daughter?"

And I watch with utter happiness as our little girl and her father meet for the first time.

* * *

It is a beautiful, sunny day in the Meadow. A makeshift altar has been placed under the shade of a tree, five lawn chairs forming a ring around it. Haymitch officiates at our crude pulpit.

"Love conquers all differences. Today, we are here to re-celebrate such a love. Do you take each other, for better or for worse?" He looks to my husband and me.

"For better, please!" Peeta smiles, and everyone laughs.

"Then by the power vested in me as the Victor of the 50th Annual Hunger Games, I now pronounce you husband and wife... again! You may kiss the bride."

Peeta takes me in his arms and dips me, before sealing the renewal of our vows with a heated kiss. Finnick, Annie, Beetee, Johanna, my mother and baby Ashley burst into applause.


	36. Chapter 36: The End

**Chapter 36: The End**

The deer spies me and tries to bolt. I take it down with an arrow after it has sprung a few feet. I get the game I need - but barely.

I suppose it is just because I am getting older. 15 years since the war can really take a toll on a woman's body. And here I thought my thirties would be one of the better decades of my life.

I skin my prize, and then roast the meat over a small fire before gathering it all into my giant satchel. I turn and stride out of the woods, heading for the fence. My filling out in my adulthood has forced me to cut a bigger hole in the barbed wire surrounding District 12, but I manage to crawl under the space. Now it's homeward bound.

As I enter the Victors Village, I can see that the growing lateness of the morning has drawn the others out of their homes to start the day. I spy Haymitch in his back garden, tossing feed out to the geese he raises and hollering at them to eat.

"Don't be too hard on them, old man!" I call to him. "I'll have some more liquor for you soon - just need to stop by Ripper's bar!"

By the center fountain, I spy the mini clock tower with its face popped open. Rounding the structure, I see Beetee with his head stuck in the thing. He extracts himself to smile at me.

"Good morning, Katniss. Just need to finish rewiring this clock. The hands have been frozen for at least the last week."

I raise an eyebrow, amused. "Aren't you a little old to be dealing with electrical equipment?"

"To have a long and healthy life, one must maintain a deep and healthy mind," the District 3 victor postulates.

"Who said that?"

He blinks in confusion. "I did."

I laugh and move on.

Right across the street from my house, I can see Finnick playing with his eight-year-old son in their front yard. Annie watches from where she is hanging the laundry out for drying with a smile.

As I climb the steps to the house I share with my husband and our family, I happen to glance at the home next door, the one that belongs to Johanna Mason. The lights are now on, where they have been laying dark for the last few days. She must have returned from her trip to the Capitol.

As I deposit my boots and coat in the foyer, my 15-year-old daughter, Ashley, comes running up to me.

"Did you hear? Auntie Johanna got back from the Capitol late last night!"

"I know; I saw the lights in her house." I greet my daughter with a peck on the cheek. "Anything else happen while I was gone?"

"Daddy left for the bakery; Eric and Clementine are still asleep," Ashley reports.

I nod. "And your grandmother?"

"Grandpa Haymitch told me she is getting ready to go see about a patient in the Merchant sector."

There is a sudden crackle, followed by loud cursing from outside. "Is that Grandpa Beetee?" Ashley asks, going to the window.

"He was fixing the clock tower when I came in," I inform her. "He's not hurt, is he? I warned him to be careful around that wiring!"

Ashley peeks out from behind the curtain and laughs. "Yeah, he's fine; just a little... shocked, is all."

I frown at her, placing my hands on my hips. Honestly, her puns are about as terrible as Peeta's!

"There's something else," Ashley offers up, and her eyes twinkle. "A stranger came into the Village carrying a suitcase. Obviously fresh off the train from the District 12 station. He must be visiting Auntie Johanna because he went right into her house without knocking."

Well, this is news. I can't help but feel a little concerned. "We may be an exclusive community, but we're not a busy one. What is going on?"

"I don't know, but Uncle Finnick thinks it's a friend Johanna met in the Capitol while she was serving as Ambassador for the Districts."

A few years after the war, President Paylor appointed Johanna to serve as a representative on behalf of all the districts of Panem. It was a pretty important position - one in the President's Cabinet, in fact - so when Ashley was still little, Johanna would be away from Twelve for up to weeks at a time. This most recent visit to the big city was to have her official Ambassador portrait unveiled. Believing that we would be a detractor from our friend's big moment, the rest of us Victors opted not to go.

But now, Johanna has a visitor in her house? Though we would never admit it, she and I are a lot alike, in that we are both very particular about who we let into our inner circles.

I decide to investigate. Telling Ashley to watch after her baby brother and sister. I march next door and enter Johanna's place without knocking.

My mouth falls open. There, in the middle of her kitchen, is Johanna kissing... Gale. And not just kissing; it's a full-blown make-out session!

"What is going on here?!" I screech before I can stop myself. Johanna and Gale break apart abruptly.

"What is it look like, brainless?" Johanna laughs. "We're necking!"

Gale looks to her. "You didn't tell Catnip, did you?"

I bristle at my nickname, never mind that I am even more peeved at his presence here. "Whatever it is, she most certainly did not."

Johanna turns to me, speaking more sincerely than I have ever known her to. "Gale and I met when I was serving as Ambassador. We were friends at first, but then, when I was going to the Capitol to oversee my portrait being done, we... started going out. We'll be married in the spring."

I gawp. I never took Johanna to be the marrying type. Then again, I never imagined myself to be the marrying type either, once upon a time. But, Johanna's my friend. More than that, even; she's my family. Even if I'm still angry with Gale, even if he will now likely be living with the rest of us, even if he and I never return to what we were before... I have to at least think of Johanna's happiness.

So I hug Johanna, and give Gale a cordial handshake. "Welcome to the family."

Gale smiles in relief. "Thank you, Katniss."

* * *

They play in the Meadow. My husband, our 15-year-old daughter, and my 8-year-old son. From our picnic blanket, I watch with a smile as I rock my youngest daughter. She's just a year old. The peacefulness of the day is broken as she stirs from her nap and begins to cry.

"Oh, ssssssshhhhhhh... ssssssshhhhhhhh..." I rock her. "Did you have a nightmare? I have nightmares too. Someday, I'll explain it to you. Why they came. Why they won't ever go away."

"But I'll tell you how I survive it. I make a list in my head, of all the good things I've seen someone do. Every little thing I can remember. It's like a game. I do it over and over. Gets a little tedious after all these years, but... there are much worse Games to play." I nod to myself, letting out a long breath.

"Oh, yes... there _are_ much worse Games to play."


End file.
